


Only For Tonight Part 2

by NuMo



Series: Only For Tonight [2]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Aftercare, Bi-Gender Character, Canon deviation, Cunnilingus, Discussions of Safety and Consent, F/F, F/M, Finger Fucking, First Time, Gender-Fluid Character, Multi, Not canon-compliant, Oral Sex, Other, Premature Ejaculation, Top Myka, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, a lot of plot with a bit of porn at the end, bi-gender Helena “H. G.” Wells | Emily Lake, blowjob, ear licking, end of season 2, gender-fluid Helena “H. G.” Wells | Emily Lake, post-vendetta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23431159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuMo/pseuds/NuMo
Summary: Here it is, the thought that spawned seventy thousand words: make H.G. bi-gender. Explanations both in this part and the next one. Here’s also where we swing away from canon and go our own merry ways, even though certain plot points still make an appearance. Find Part 1here.This is fic mostly plot, with sexytimes happening in chapters 6 and 7.Due to the internal logic of this story, those will be M/F.If that’s not your cuppa, steer clear. I know Bering & Wells is a femslash couple, and I adore that they are a femslash couple, and I know there are way too few femslash couples out there, and I will ship B&W to the end of my days. I hope that this my plot bunny (“What if H.G. Wells was gender-fluid?”) works for you; if not, fair, no worries.Chapter 8 is set-up for Part 3, in which our protagonists will learn to live with their new knowledge of each other. If you just want to skip the sexytimes (no judgement either way), please consider reading that chapter nevertheless, even though it starts with post-sexytimes aftercare.
Relationships: Myka Bering/Helena "H. G." Wells
Series: Only For Tonight [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684066
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

Myka waited. 

Helena did not return to the hotel – although she had, when Myka enquired at the front desk, settled the bill in full – and did not return to Leena’s B&B either. 

A week went by, and still Myka waited. 

She wasn’t nervous. If Helena simply needed time to process what had happened, Myka fully and totally understood; she herself had been ruminating quite a bit on what had happened. Myka was ready to give Helena all the time she needed. If anything, she was concerned that Helena might get into her own way. She knew Helena sometimes tended to do that.

So she waited. Two weeks, three, a month. Pings came and went, artifacts were snagged, bagged and tagged, and every day, every night, Myka wondered – but she waited. If she knew Helena at all, she knew that pushing her now would do nothing good. Six weeks. Two months.

Then Artie, of all people – Artie, who had always distrusted Helena, even after she’d saved his life in Moscow – delivered the news. 

Helena had been caught by the Regents. Apparently she’d planned to find – and use – the Minoan Trident, an artifact so dangerous that Artie used the word ‘cataclysmic’ not just once, but three times in total. Apparently, from what he said, getting reinstated as an agent, getting them all to trust her, had been nothing but a ruse. Artie looked anywhere but at Myka as he said so, still she got the message loud and clear: Helena would never have been reinstated if it hadn’t been for her. 

Myka had made a disastrous error in judgment. 

He didn’t say how or why Helena had been found out or where she was now; apparently, that all was “Regent business”, need-to-know, and they didn’t. Again. 

Myka reflected on that as she packed her bags. 

She hadn’t been sacked, not as such, but she didn’t see how she could continue working at the Warehouse: Artie obviously didn’t trust her anymore; she’d made a disastrous error in judgment; she’d let everybody down. 

And then she made her next, if less disastrous, error in judgment and returned to her parents to lick her wounds. 

Her dad didn’t outright say ‘I told you so’, still she got the message loud and clear: she hadn’t been good enough. Again. 

Almost as soon as she started, she resented being there, resented working in her father’s bookstore, but when Pete showed up with New Guy Steve in tow and tried to persuade her to come back, she doubled down – at least in a bookstore, nothing _cataclysmic_ happened if someone made an error in judgment. She might not be in her happy place, but then who was? 

And then Mrs. Frederic turned up, the way Mrs. Frederic always turned up: when you least expected her, and out of thin air. Her thanking Myka was… odd, but then she added that there was someone she wanted Myka to speak with, and Myka’s heart sank before Mrs. F had even finished talking. She knew who that had to be, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that conversation.

Helena stood there, slender, porcelain-white skin without any trace of raven wings or golden locket, drab, beige, loose garments accentuating how narrow her shoulders were, how hollow her eyes. 

“Hello, Myka,” she said, and Myka was sure she _wasn’t_ ready for this conversation.

Myka turned to Mrs. Frederic, stuttering in her confusion. “Why? Wh- why? Mrs. Frederic, why would you bring her here?”

“She can’t hurt you, Myka,” Mrs. F replied, as if that had ever been true. “She can’t hurt anyone. Trust me.” And then she added, “I’ll leave you two alone.” As if that was what Myka wanted. 

“Myka,” Helena began, “I am so, so sorry.”

“No,” Myka said stubbornly. “No, you don’t get to… to apologize. Y– You don’t.”

“Then I don’t know what to say,” Helena said with a helpless shrug, and fell silent. 

Despite herself, Myka couldn’t keep silent; she _had_ to know. “How… why didn’t you come back to me? Why now, why…” she gestured towards Helena and her beige attire, “why like this?”

“I’m not…” Helena began, stopped, swallowed. “I’m not proud of what I did. But that it drove you away from the Warehouse!” She looked dejected. “You’re right: it’s not my place to beg your forgiveness, but I would, instead, ask you to reconsider your decision to leave. Myka, you… you belong there. More than anyone; more than I ever did.”

Myka shook her head. “I don’t,” she insisted. “Nobody who makes such a bad call belongs anywhere near such a job.”

Helena’s eyebrows creased in confusion. “Bad call?”

“I trusted you!” Myka burst out. “I trusted you, and you… you just used me. Used us,” she corrected. “Good thing they caught you before you could do even more harm.”

Helena recoiled as if she’d been slapped. “But…” she stammered.

“Are you gonna tell me you didn’t betray us?” Myka demanded. “Are you gonna tell me you didn’t get into the databases to search for the Minoan Trident? Tell me you didn’t have half of it stashed away already?”

Helena stood there wordlessly, open-mouthed. 

“Thought so,” Myka muttered. She was about to turn away when she saw Helena shake her head wildly. 

“I don’t know who gave you this information and what else they told you,” Helena said intently, “but if you know all of this already, you must also know that it was I who went to the Regents. It was I who gave myself up and showed them not just my plan, but evidence that I had stopped its execution. And it was you, Myka,” and here her voice became soft, pleading, near-desperate, “you who helped me see that I needed to turn around. That I’d been going wrong when I’d taken the path to vengeance.”

It was Myka’s turn now to stare wordlessly. 

“When I… when I realized,” Helena went on, “how much you meant to me, when you… when all you did, whilst I was at my most vulnerable, was ask how you could make things easier for me, when I realized how much you cared, and how much your care meant to me-” she broke off, looked down, swallowed harshly. “You were right that day; I knew that I could trust you. But I also knew that I wasn’t worthy of your trust. Because of how I’d deceived you, of what I’d been trying to do. I…” again, Helena fell silent. 

Myka could see, though, that Helena wasn’t done talking yet, so she waited, trying to be patient. She didn’t have the full picture – she’d thought she had, but now Helena was giving her more. She could be patient for that. Incomplete pictures led to bad calls, and she was _done_ with those.

“I thought I needed you to trust me,” Helena said tonelessly. “All of you, not just you personally, Myka. I thought I just needed to make all of you trust me, and things would turn out according to my plan, but… part of me knew. Part of me knew that trust goes both ways, and that if anything, any _one_ could stop me, it was you. You didn’t make a bad call by trusting me, Myka, on the contrary. Your trust in me, specifically on that night, that morning, held a mirror in front of me. It showed me how you saw me, made me realize me that I wanted to be how you saw me, much more than I wanted to be what my plan made me to be. It showed me that I had a chance, the hope of a chance, to turn my plan around and be worthy, at least in the smallest of ways, of your trust.”

Myka pressed her lips together. If that was true… if that was true, then she hadn’t misjudged when she’d thought that Helena had betrayed her. She’d misjudged when she’d believed what she’d been told. By Artie, who’d been against Helena’s reinstatement from the start. Who might or might not have had this whole picture, but who most surely didn’t have any motivation for thinking well of Helena’s motives or actions. 

_This_ was what she’d seen go through Helena’s mind that morning. The pivotal realization Helena had had – this had been it. She’d _seen_ Helena’s change of heart. She just hadn’t understood it. Not back then – but she did now.

“I went to the Regents four days later,” Helena went on. “That was how long it took me to stop all I had set in motion, to collect everything of evidence that I had, and to turn myself in.”

Myka blinked. “And then… then what happened? I mean they didn’t… obviously they didn’t bronze you again. You’re here.” She gestured to where Helena stood amongst the bookshelves.

A tremor ran across Helena’s face. “I haven’t actually come here,” she said with an attempt at a self-deprecating smile that was heart-wrenching in how much it fell short of being reassuring. “Not as such.”

Myka stared at her. What did _that_ mean? Mrs. Frederic had said Helena couldn’t hurt anyone, not Myka, not anyone else. And now Helena said she wasn’t actually here? Was she…

Before she could talk her brain out of it, Myka’s hand took action and reached out for Helena’s arm – but when it got there, it didn’t connect; it went right through Helena’s shape, which shimmered, split apart, then coalesced again. Helena, in its wake, shuddered. The hairs on Myka’s arm rose. 

Her mouth formed a thousand questions, then settled on, “You’re some sort of holographic projection?”

“I’m being held,” Helena replied with another one of those smiles. “I don’t know where,” she went on, and for a moment, Myka could see clearly how badly that uncertainty was affecting her, “or how.” Before Myka could say anything on that, Helena went on, in tones that were probably intended to be hearty, “They can, it seems, transport my consciousness.” And, with a roll of her eyes, “Wish I’d thought of that.”

Myka shook her head, slow at first, then more and more decisive. “This isn’t right,” she said. “This isn’t… it isn’t right. I’ll-”

Helena dissolved right before her eyes. 

Myka gasped in shock. Then Mrs. Frederic came into view, holding a black, heavy-looking ball in her hand, and Myka rounded on her. “Mrs. Frederic, do you have any idea-”

“Do I have any idea where she is being held? Yes. Do I have any idea what this is doing to her?” Mrs. Frederic sighed, putting the ball in her handbag. She looked graver than Myka had ever seen her. “Of course I do, otherwise I wouldn’t bring this matter to someone who’s not currently an agent.” She emphasized the last four words while giving Myka a significant look. “The Regents have given their verdict, and this is it,” she went on, patting her bag. “From their point of view, this punishment is neither cruel nor unusual; it allows the Warehouse to continue to use one of its most valuable assets, while at the same time ensuring that no harm will come to anyone.”

“Except her!” Myka snapped.

“Ms. Bering, I have said what I came to say,” Mrs. Frederic announced. Her tone had changed completely, and Myka found it hard to follow that sudden shift. “You seem somewhat… strained. I have heard that vacation is a good solution for that. I know a truly excellent place in Cheyenne, Wyoming; here, let me give you the address.” She walked towards the cash register, wrote something on a piece of paper, turned and left the store. Physically. As in, leaving through the actual door.

Myka stared after her. What the hell? A vacation? In Wyoming?!

She slowly went to stare at the piece of paper. It was indeed an address, indeed in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Then it clicked.

Mrs. Frederic wanted her to go there.

Mrs. Frederic knew what this was doing to Helena – she’d said so, unmistakably, and had said _in the very same breath_ that this was why she had brought this to Myka’s attention. Whatever was in Cheyenne, it had to do with this. Had to do with solving this, making this _right_.

Myka set her jaw.


	2. Chapter 2

The address was a school. High school, from the looks of it, Myka thought as she got out of her car. She had no idea why Mrs. Frederic would send her to – she checked the sign out front – yet another Lincoln High School, but something had to be here in Cheyenne, Wyoming. The Caretaker had seemed on her – on Helena’s – side, at least Myka wanted to believe as much. 

And then it turned out it wasn’t something she’d been sent here for, it was some _one_. 

There was only one problem.

“Hello, can I help you?”

The voice was _male_. The _person_ was male. Oh, the facial structures were more or less the same, as was the color hair and eyes, but the person standing in front of Myka looked every inch like a man – and speaking of inches: a man taller than Helena by at least three of those. 

There was not a single spark of recognition in those brown eyes. 

Nevertheless, Myka had to at least try, didn’t she? “Helena, it’s me,” she said, but with little hope.

No spark at all. Instead, confusion, and genuine amusement. “I gotta say, that’s a new one,” the man said with a familiarly raised eyebrow. “I’m sorry, I’m just a sub – are you looking for somebody? The main office is straight down the-,”

The faux-American accent was grating on Myka’s nerves, so she interrupted, “No, I…” her thoughts raced. “I was specifically told to come here,” she said. “I must have gotten things wrong.” She laughed, hoping it sounded a little more convincing than it felt, and held out her hand. “Let’s start over. I’m Myka, Myka Bering.”

“Emmet Lake,” the man said, shaking her hand with an achingly familiar smile. The clean-shaven, flat-chested, narrow-hipped man. This wasn’t Helena in drag; this was – all questions about feasibility and gender presentation and such aside – a male version of the person Myka was looking to find. His movements, gestures, facial expressions so closely mirrored those Myka knew, and yet there was no recognition, not a hint of conspiratorial subterfuge in his eyes, not a single twitch of an eyelid that might have been a wink. Only confused and amused helpfulness. 

Myka felt sick to her stomach, but pasted another smile on her lips. “Good to meet you,” she said. “Look, I, uh…” she looked around herself, at the classroom now empty of kids – it was mid-morning, the next class would doubtlessly start soon. “I don’t want to bother you while you’re at work. There’s something I’d like to talk with you about; I think we both have a mutual acquaintance? Anyway, are you…” she cleared her throat, “are you free after work?”

“Oh! Sure,” ‘Emmet Lake’ said in his fake Midwestern accent. “Drop by at half past four? You know where to find me now, am I right?”

“Yeah,” Myka nodded, trying to return Emmet’s smile. “Four thirty. I’ll be here.” And she turned on her heel and left. 

She drove to the nearest parking lot, then sat in her car and bit her thumb until the heaves went away. 

Okay, so what did she know? 

There was a consciousness of Helena Wells, transported and holographically projected, stored somehow on some kind of black ball, or orb, or whatever you might want to call it. Mrs. Frederic had custody of that orb, either permanently or on loan from the Regents. 

There was a body, out here in Wyoming, a living breathing body that _looked_ like a male version of Helena Wells might look but spoke nothing like her. A high school teacher. English literature: Myka had seen the posters on the wall, up to and including the ‘Safe Space’ poster with the rainbow flag – someone had at least been kind enough to leave a few remnants of the actual Helena Wells behind, if that’s who this living breathing body was.

It made sense, in a weird way. Neither gender-bending nor separating a consciousness from its physical body were the most outlandish things Myka had come across in her service as a Warehouse agent. In a way, it’d happened to her and Pete, hadn’t it, only they’d switched physical bodies; and here, Helena’s consciousness had been… transferred elsewhere, instead of into a different body? Into that orb, somehow? 

Who, then, was Emmet Lake? 

Whose consciousness was in Helena’s body – if that _was_ Helena’s body? Why the change of gender and/or sex? So that nobody would accidentally recognize her? Some kind of a sick and twisted ‘H.G. Wells wasn’t a woman after all’ in-joke?

And why put a different consciousness in there anyway? To keep the body alive? So that, maybe, after whatever term the Regents deemed right, Helena’s consciousness could be restored? 

Into a male body? Or could it be flipped back, as it were? 

But then why not just bronze her body instead, or something like that? Cryo-freezing, or something? Why go to all the trouble to make her body male, and find a male person’s consciousness to put in there? 

Or was it the other way around – was Emmet Lake a consciousness the Regents had just lying around, as it were, so they created a male body to put him in? And what would happen with him when Helena’s consciousness was restored? 

Was he himself a victim of just such a separation, perhaps? Had he been separated from _his_ body somehow, and had been given _this_ body as… what, a thank you from the Regents? 

Did he know that he was in that body only temporarily?

 _Was_ he? In that body only temporarily?

Myka’s thoughts turned and turned until ten past four, then she heaved a big breath, tugged her hairband out and re-did her braid, pinched her cheeks to get some color into them, and turned on the ignition. 

Thirty minutes later, she sat in a diner with Emmet Arnold Lake, and was sure of one thing: this man had no idea.

Oh, he was a nice enough person, kind, caring, not an ounce of toxic masculinity in him. Impossibly good-looking, even despite his somewhat frumpy fashion choices – a freaking _ponytail_ , for crying out loud. Still witty, still charming, in his own way. But after a very short bit of small talk he spoke of amnesia, of an accident, of his hope that the mutual acquaintance that Myka had made up had sent Myka to him because she knew him ‘from before’. 

Those two words came up quite often. 

Underneath the conversation she kept up with Emmet about his past, or rather his theories about it, Myka was seething with rage at the Regents. How dare they? Who did they think they were? Oh, Artie had told her and Pete and Claudia that the Regents were ‘regular, normal people’, but what the hell did they think they were doing, playing with the lives of people this way? 

Emmet had no idea of anything before ‘day zero’ eight weeks ago, when he’d woken up in a hospital and a man who from his description _had_ to have been Kosan had spoken to him about an accident that Emmet didn’t remember and a life before that accident he didn’t remember, had taken him to his apartment, had given him a folder of ‘all he knew’, and had wished him good luck. 

_That_ was the ‘before’ Emmet meant. And then he asked, hesitantly, timidly, if Myka calling him ‘Helena’ was something that he should know about.

Myka’s thoughts raced, trying to find an answer to this that wouldn’t confuse the hell out of the poor guy.

“Are you alright?” 

Myka started and realized that she was stabbing at her salad bowl even though it was her fork was full already. “Oh!” she said quickly, “sorry. Whoops.” She grimaced a smile and brought the fork to her mouth despite feeling queasy again. Chewing gave her a bit more time to collect her thoughts, though, and finally she answered, “I think I misheard… Mrs. G when she told me to contact you. Mobile phone call, you know how that sometimes goes. Bad connection, stuff like that. I knew a Helena back in college, and I was in the area, so I figured…” she shrugged. “No idea why Mrs. G thought I’d know you. I really am sorry.”

Emmet nodded. He looked resigned, and Myka wondered how often he’d had his hopes up for finding out more about his ‘past’ only to have them dashed like this. She gritted her teeth; she didn’t want to empathize with his situation. 

“Gotcha,” he said. “Look, I’m sorry I’m not who you thought you’d find. And I hope I’m, uh… entertaining enough that this side trip hasn’t been a total waste. Maybe, if you like, we could… catch a movie or something? In the interest of ‘not a total waste’?” 

Myka blinked, trying not to stare at this hopeful amnesiac with Helena’s cheekbones and a definitely not-Helena five-o’clock shadow who was, earnestly and shyly, trying to flirt with her. It wasn’t Emmet’s fault that Myka felt her dinner rise again at the back of her throat. She bit on her lip. “Sorry, I’m a… I’m feeling a bit off today,” she said, “rain check?”

“Oh! Sure,” he said immediately. 

“Can I get you two something to drink?” the waitress breezed in to ask. 

Emmet dropped his gaze, ears pink. “Um, no,” he muttered. Then, in a steadier voice, he added, “No, thanks, Ted.” 

“Are you sure?” The waitress smiled and clicked her pen a couple times. “How about a slice of pie? Today’s special is banana cream; I made it myself!”

A waitress called Ted. Myka had a really good head for details, and that had been something Artie had mentioned about meeting the Regents. There’d been a waitress called Theodora, Ted for short, there too, who’d baked banana cream pie. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Why, though? Was she keeping an eye on Emmet?

“Wow, I…,” Myka sighed, searching Ted’s face for any kind of signal, “I haven’t had banana cream pie in years. Would you mind if we got one?” she asked Emmet, hoping he wouldn’t question why, when she was pleading feeling a bit off, she’d want to get a slice of pie. 

The smile that bloomed on Emmet’s face was fully unguarded, though. “Sure,” he said, and with a little self-deprecating smile added, “I can’t even remember when I last had one of those.”

Myka bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. She didn’t want to like Emmet. She didn’t need Emmet to try and make light of his situation. She sure as hell didn’t need Emmet Lake to flirt with her. 

Then Emmet excused himself to go to the bathroom and, sure enough, a second later Ted was at the table, putting down two plates of pie. 

“You’re not alone,” she whispered to Myka as she sat them down. “The majority of us voted no; Kosan did it anyway. Find a way to bring him here,” she slipped Myka a piece of paper, “we’ll do the rest.”

Before Myka could ask what she meant, Ted had gone. The paper was an address for a music store in Mitchell, Nebraska – Myka had driven past the interstate exit on her way here. An hour, maybe two – but how could she ask Emmet to go on that kind of trip with her?

Turned out she didn’t need to.

Myka was driving Emmet back to Lincoln High to get his car when he mentioned feeling drowsy; half a minute later his head was leaning against the window, he was dead asleep, and Myka was ready to murder any one Regent who crossed her way. 

Ted had drugged the fucking pie. 

Did anyone of the Regents even care about Emmet Lake? About the person they had created? And what was the ‘rest’ they were suggesting they’d do to him?!

Myka’s face was thunderous as she sped along the highway. 

Where was she taking Emmet? What would happen to him once they got to Mitchell? What was Myka complicit in, going along with what Ted had said?

Forty minutes ago, Myka wouldn’t have cared; she’d have manhandled Emmet Lake into her trunk herself if that meant getting Helena back, but now? He was a _person_ , someone trying the best he could with what meager scraps the Regents had given him. Myka had had dinner with him, had laughed at his jokes, had witnessed his incredulous, infectious happiness at the taste of his first ever fucking banana cream pie. 

Which had been fucking spiked.

Emmet Lake was an innocent bystander. 

There was no way that he was going to come out of this unharmed.

Myka felt like swearing a blue streak. 

The store seemed already closed when she arrived, but as she sat in the car wondering what to do next, Mrs. Frederic opened the door and waved for her to come in. 

Myka rolled her eyes at the sheer cloak-and-dagger-ness of it all, then went around the car and caught Emmet’s arm around her neck to try and lift him out. Mrs. Frederic had the decency to come out and help, at least, and a minute later, they were in the back room of the store. Among the boxes of records and equipment, there was an old dilapidated couch, and Myka sat Emmet down on it. 

“Now what?” she turned to ask Mrs. Frederic, and gasped. 

Helena stood there too, same clothes, same meekness as before, and stared at Emmet Lake. “…oh,” she said, sounding far less surprised than Myka would have thought.

Myka was about to ask Helena about that when Mrs. Frederic spoke up. 

“The Janus Coin,” the Caretaker said, as if that explained anything, and set the orb down on a shelf close to the door before elaborating, “It allows the wielder to remove a person’s memories. Remove enough, and the memories can be used to recreate the person’s consciousness.” She pointed at Helena. “The body remains alive, aware, intelligent; just without the specific memories that were removed.” She pointed at Emmet, who was starting to show signs of coming around. 

“But-” Myka began, but Helena interrupted her.

“Why the male form, though?” Helena asked Mrs. Frederic, then nodded to herself and answered, “Ah, but of course. I hope you made sure there would be no… accidents.”

“I was not present when Mr. Kosan applied the Janus Coin,” Mrs. Frederic replied stiffly. “I can’t answer your question. I’d hope so, too, though.”

“Is _anybody_ going to explain this to me?!” Myka demanded, hands on hips. She was shaking with rage. “And not just the male-female thing, but why the fuck the Regents or Kosan or whoever thought this was the right thing to do.” She pointed at the unconscious Emmet. So he wasn’t another person, wasn’t someone else’s consciousness transferred into Helena’s body. Emmet Lake was – what, just a name Kosan had made up before he dropped him off in the middle of fucking Wyoming? “I just watched him tear up over a fucking slice of pie, okay?” she went on. “And then it turns out that the Regents drugged that pie to get him here. This isn’t a joke.” She turned to Mrs. Frederic. “This isn’t a joke,” she repeated. 

“No,” Mrs. Frederic said calmly, sadly, “indeed this is not a joke. All kinds of mistakes were made, and I intend to see them corrected. Unfortunately, we don’t have a lot of time for explanations; the Regents are on their way and will be here soon. Once they arrive, I’ll explain to them why I brought you into this matter. Ms. Bering, I am on your side; I, too, am deeply offended on Mr. Lake’s and Ms. Wells’ behalf.”

Myka took a deep breath. Having Mrs. Frederic as an ally was undoubtedly good, but-

“Myka, wha’-” came a blurry voice from behind her. “Wha’s ha’ning?”

With a vaguely apologetic gesture at Mrs. Frederic, Myka turned around and sank down. 

At the same time, Helena took a few steps backwards. “Best if I’m not the first thing he sees, I think,” she murmured to Myka. 

“Emmet,” Myka said, touching the man’s shoulders as her thoughts raced through what on Earth she might tell him to explain all of this. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I don’…” Emmet shuddered. “Don’ feel good.” He smacked his lips a few times. “Tastes awful,” he added. 

“Here,” Mrs. Frederic said from behind Myka, and held out a small plastic bottle. “Nothing but water, I promise. I’ll head outside to buy you as much time as I can.” She sounded determined, and Myka could hear her steps receding after she took the water bottle from her hands. 

“What’s going on?” Emmet asked. His eyes roved Myka’s face, wide with worry, slow-blinking with the effort to shake off the tranquilizer. 

“Have a drink,” Myka stalled. “You probably heard her; nothing but water in here.”

“What do you mean, nothing but water?” Emmet furrowed his brows. Then his eyes got even wider than before, and he stared at Myka. “There was something in my drink, wasn’t there? Diane spoke of it the other day; date drugs, she said. Roo- something.”

“Roofies,” Myka said absentmindedly, “something like that, yeah.” She bit her lip. “Not by me, though, I promise,” she added.

Emmet was sitting up straighter now, water bottle all but forgotten. Then he looked past Myka and gasped, and the water bottle fell to the floor. “What…” he began, in a croak. He cleared his throat and looked back at Myka pleadingly. “Myka, what’s going on? What is this?”

“I found your memories,” Myka said as Emmet Lake turned to stare again at Helena Wells.


	3. Chapter 3

“But that is impossible,” Emmet Lake said as he looked at Helena Wells, who was slowly coming forward. 

“Nope,” Myka said, popping the p in her best Pete fashion. “I can explain, okay? It’ll sound like nothing you’ve ever heard before, but then everything you’ve learned about yourself you’ve only heard or found out in the last couple months, right? So, you know, maybe you knew something like this was possible before you forgot. You know?”

Emmet blinked. His eyes were still riveted to Helena’s face, who’d taken up station a few feet away. “I… I guess?”

“Okay,” Myka said, squeezing his shoulders in an attempt to make him look at her again. “Okay, so. Imagine there was a way to separate a person’s personal memories – who they are, what they experienced in their life, what they like and dislike, all of that – from a person’s body. Not erase them, just remove them, put them somewhere else.” She took a deep breath, hoping that she was explaining it right – she’d only heard about it two minutes ago herself, after all. “Then on the one hand you’d have someone who doesn’t know any of that information, who they are and so on, and on the other, a bunch of memories, separate from that person, okay?” She pointed at Helena. “And then imagine someone was able to give those memories a shape, a way of talking, walking, _being_ , outside of their physical body.”

Helena gave a little twitch of her hands. “That,” she said hoarsely, “would be me.”

Emmet stared at her. “You… you _heard_ that?”

“Of course,” Helena replied. “I’m not simply a memory bank,” she cast Myka a dark glare, “I’m a full person. I simply lack a physical body.”

“But… you’re a woman,” Emmet said slowly. “How could my memories be a woman?”

“Why wouldn’t they be?” Helena asked back. 

Myka glared at her. _Not helping._

“But I’m not!” Emmet protested. “I’m a man. A guy. I mean,” he gestured towards his crotch and, though blushing fiercely, said, “all there. Fully kitted out. What the-”

“These days it’s called bi-gender,” Helena said, brief enough to be almost a snap. “Only in my case – our case, I guess I should say – it’s the physical body too, not just the internal experience.”

“But I’m not you,” Emmet said stubbornly. Then his face turned white, and he looked at Myka. “You called me Helena,” he whispered. He pointed at Helena. “That… that is Helena, right?”

Myka nodded. 

Emmet looked as if he was about to throw up. “I don’t…” he said in a unsteady voice, “I don’t get it. I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Myka said helplessly. 

Before she or Helena could say anything else, though, someone rapped their fist against the shuttered window. “Ms. Bering, you need to step out of this building.”

“Who’s that?!” Emmet asked, staring at the window in alarm. “He… but… but that was _him_. The doctor who spoke to me. What… Myka, what is going on?”

“Emmet, you gotta trust me, okay?” Myka squeezed both of his hands. “I know this is confusing, I know this seems like a bad dream, but I’m on your side, whatever happens. That guy?” She nodded her head towards the window, “Isn’t. I will do whatever I can to keep you safe, okay? I promise.”

Emmet’s mouth worked for a moment, then he nodded. 

-_-_-

A gasp ran through the crowd as Myka Bering, Emmet Lake and Helena Wells stepped out of the store into the twilight of the evening. By Myka’s estimate, at least two dozen people were standing in a semicircle in the store’s parking lot. It was a scene right out of a movie, she thought to herself; a bad, really bad wannabe horror movie.

In front of the crowd was Kosan. Myka could see Ted further back, and Mrs. Frederic somewhat off to the side, but Myka focused on Kosan. If Ted had told the truth, he’d been the one to overrule the Regents’ verdict to not do this, the one to actually wield the Janus Coin, whatever that meant. 

“Ms. Bering, what do you think you’re doing?” he asked her, nodding at the black orb she held in her hands. 

She snorted a short laugh. “I could ask you the same thing,” she said. “What gives you the idea that this is any kind of okay?”

But even as she spoke, Emmet walked past her with long, furious strides. “You,” he spat at Kosan. “What did you do to me?”

“To you?” Kosan asked with raised eyebrows. “Nothing. I helped you get your footing back after your acc-” 

“Bu-” Emmet began. His voice broke. He stopped and took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was steady and clear. “Bull. Shit.” He took up station in front of Kosan, arms akimbo. “You took my memories away from me. Why?”

“Yes, Mr. Kosan: why?” Myka echoed Emmet. “On which grounds? Under what kind of jurisdiction, what kind of authority?”

“I have all the authority I need,” Kosan said, “as Head of the Regents.”

“Adwin,” a female Regent from behind him said, “we voted against it and you still went through with it. Your authority here isn’t on very solid ground.”

“I have that right,” Kosan snapped at her. 

“By our consent, yes,” the female Regent replied calmly. “And we have the right to countermand your decision.”

“You also voted to reinstate her as an agent, and I went along with that against my better judgement,” Kosan said, now actually turning to the Regent who’d challenged him, even pointing a finger at her, and at the other Regents in turn. “We all know what happened then, don’t we? She,” without turning, he pointed behind himself, in Helena’s general direction, “threatened to end the world!”

Myka saw Emmet’s jaw drop and wished he hadn’t learned that particular fact in this particular fashion. 

“So of course I overruled you,” Kosan was going on, “when you voted in her favor _yet again!_ She needs to be stopped; she needs to be taught a lesson; she said herself that she didn’t expect to walk free!”

The female Regent persisted, though. “She needs _help_ , Adwin, not stopping. She stopped herself; _she_ came to _us_. Taka probed her and came away satisfied that her change of heart was true; Irene tells us that the Warehouse itself welcomes her-”

“And this way,” Kosan interrupted her, pointing at Helena again, “we can still use her as an asset, without endangering the whole world in the process.”

“‘Use’ being the operative word here,” Myka snapped. She’d been seething all through the exchange, seething at how shell-shocked Emmet looked, at how hunched Helena’s shoulders were, at how the other Regents murmured at best but never spoke up. “You use people, and you don’t seem to see anything wrong with that. You set them up with an apartment, a job and a file folder, and think that is alright.” 

“She consented to it,” Kosan shot back, turning to Myka again. Then he nodded at Helena. “Tell her, Ms. Wells.” 

“You gave me the choice between being bronzed again and this,” Helena said stiffly. 

Myka gritted her teeth. “Making a choice doesn’t imply consent, Kosan, and you know it. It’s not consent unless you have the chance to say no to either option. Did she have that?” 

Kosan pinched his lips together, then pressed out a “No.”

Myka gave the assembled Regents a ‘there you have it’ gesture. She looked around the group in the harsh light of the overhead lamps, trying to gauge who was sympathetic to her words and who wasn’t. “You pride yourself on being ordinary people,” she said, fighting to keep her rage out of her voice, “who are keeping the interests of other ordinary people, but you’ve lost something along the way.” She nodded her chin at Kosan. “Maybe only you lost it, maybe more of you have lost it, I don’t know and I don’t care, but once you think that a choice between bronzing and… and _this_ ,” she hefted the orb in her hand, “is consent, once you think of people as something to use, you’ve lost it.” She glared at him. “It stops here. This,” she pointed to Emmet and Helena with her free hand, “stops here.” 

Kosan turned to face her fully, and took a few steps until he was standing right in front of her. She almost laughed in his face at this attempt to intimidate her; better people than him had tried. 

“Make me,” he said.

This time, Myka didn’t stop herself – she laughed out loud. Before she could answer his ridiculous challenge, though, another Regent spoke up. 

“You’re out of line.”

“Damn right she is,” Kosan nodded without looking away from Myka. 

The Regent – a scruffy, curly-haired man – took a step forward and said, almost gently, “No, Adwin, I meant you.” His voice was slightly accented – Eastern European, perhaps Russian, Myka thought. He put a hand on Kosan’s arm and pulled, turning the man away from Myka to face the Regents. Then he raised his voice, “Motion – to remove Adwin Kosan from the position as Head of the Regents; all in favor say aye.”

Several ‘ayes’ reverberated among the Regents. 

Ted spoke up next; she held up a small notepad as sign that she’d kept score. “The ayes have it. Motion passes. Motion,” she went on, “to instate Philip Petrov as next Head of the Regents as per rote; all in favor say aye.” She paused to look around the circle of Regents and again take count, then nodded. “The ayes have this one, too. Motion passes. Philip, do you accept?”

“I accept,” the curly-haired Regent said. “Jane,” he nodded at the female Regent who’d spoken up against Kosan, “remind me about the shackle later, okay?” When Jane nodded, Petrov looked at Kosan. “Adwin, you know we all respect your knowledge, your wisdom. You have given the Warehouse more than anyone I know, except Mrs. Frederic, of course.” He sketched a little bow to the Caretaker, then turned back to Kosan. “Take a step back, okay? Be a Regent, _just_ a Regent, again. You still have a place among us.” He held out his hand. “Do I have your support?”

Myka could only see the back of Kosan’s head, but the way he held it, the way his jaw worked, clearly spoke of his conflict. She tensed, ready to intervene, but then Kosan took and shook Petrov’s hand. 

“Thank you, my friend,” Petrov said. Then he turned to Myka. “Ms. Bering, my apologies.”

Myka shook her head. “I’m not the one who got hurt,” she told him tersely. 

Petrov nodded. “True.” He stepped around Kosan, whose shoulders were slumped now, and approached Helena and Emmet, who had – consciously or subconsciously, Myka didn’t know – moved to stand together. “Ms. Wells, Mr. Lake, on behalf of the Regents of Warehouse 13, I would like to offer my apologies. I accept full responsibility for this state of affairs,” he gestured between the two of them, “and would like to ask you how we can best amend it.”

Helena’s brows were furrowed sharply. Emmet looked imploringly at Myka, silently asking for help. 

It was the female Regent, Jane, who spoke up, though. “Why don’t we put this in their hands?” she asked. “Quite literally.” She pointed at the black orb in Myka’s hand. “Ms. Bering, please hand this over to Mr. Lake – Mr. Lake, don’t worry, the orb itself isn’t how your memories were taken; it simply houses them. You can touch it without fear.”

Myka held the orb out to Emmet who, after a long moment’s hesitation, took it and cradled it to his chest. 

“I suggest the following,” Jane went on. “This is a grave matter; Ms. Wells and Mr. Lake should be given as much time as they need to decide how they want to proceed.” There were a few mutters, but most of the Regents nodded. Jane turned to Emmet and Helena. “If you need to contact us, Ted will be available at the diner; unless and until you do, though, this will be yours to decide. Would that be acceptable to you?”

“I, too, will stand ready to answer your questions,” Mrs. Frederic volunteered.

Again, Emmet caught Myka’s eyes. It was Helena who agreed first; Emmet waited for Myka’s nod before he joined in. “Alright.”

“Excellent. I think that concludes this matter?” The female Regent looked expectantly at Petrov. 

“Yes, Jane,” Petrov replied instantly. “Thank you, everyone, and Ms. Bering, Ms. Wells, Mr. Lake – please don’t think too badly of us. We agree that people should not be used; I’m sorry we didn’t prevent this instance of it happening, but we will work on not having any more instances like it.”

“You better,” Emmet said darkly. He, Myka and Helena watched as in ones and twos, the Regents got into cars and drove off. Then Emmet turned back and asked, “So how- where did she go?”

Myka followed his gaze – Mrs. Frederic had disappeared. She sighed. “She does that,” she said, “I don’t know how. I don’t think anyone knows how. She’ll be back. This is probably her way to give us space, I guess.”

Emmet looked extremely skeptical, but Helena chimed in too, saying, “Myka is right.” Helena let her eyes rove around the parking lot, now empty but for Myka’s car. “Now what?”

Before Myka could say anything, Emmet gasped, “Dickens!” When both Myka and Helena turned to him in confusion, he elaborated, “My cat. It’s late; I should have fed him hours ago.”

The look of utter revulsion on Helena’s face was almost comical. Myka wasn’t sure if it was directed at the idea of a cat in and of itself, or at the naming of said cat, or at the need of said cat for sustenance, but there was a solution to this conundrum at least, and it was easy to implement. “Let’s go then.”

“You’re taking me home?” Emmet looked around himself. “Where are we, even?”

“Mitchell, Nebraska” Myka said.

“Mitchell!?” he exclaimed. “That’s- it’s gonna take us over an hour to get home.”

Home. Myka bit her lip. Even the atrocious ‘American’ accent was beginning to grow on her, and now Emmet Lake had spoken of ‘home’. “About ninety minutes, yes,” she said levelly. 

Emmet nodded, then turned to Helena. “Will you… would you sit in the back with me?” he asked. “I have so many questions.”

Myka saw Helena blink. She didn’t envy her that conversation, not one bit – more: she was worried what it would do to Helena. 

Helena, though, straightened her shoulders and nodded. “Of course.”


	4. Chapter 4

Myka did her best to keep her eyes on the road, but her ears were another matter; she couldn’t stop them from hearing the conversation in the back, try as she might to give Emmet and Helena some privacy. 

“So, um… where should we start – what’s your, I mean our, name, then?”

“Helena George Wells,” came the reply. 

“Oh! So our parents were literary fans?”

“Not… quite. Mr. Lake, I was born Herbert George Wells, on September twenty-first, in the year eighteen-sixty-six, in Atlas House, in Kent in England.”

Silence. 

“It’s not any more outlandish, surely, than the idea of a person’s memories being taken from their mind and given holographic form.”

“Ho- holographic?”

Myka heard Helena sigh, then Emmet gasp. She took her eyes off the road for a moment to check the mirror, and saw that Helena had plunged her arm into the backrest of the passenger seat. 

“Holographic.” 

Myka heard Emmet gulp. His voice wavered only slightly as he said, “Okay.” A deep breath, then he continued, “Okay. Bi-gender, holographic. Okay. Okay, but… so how come H.G. Wells is alive in 2010? I thought he… died in, uh… the 1940s?”

Myka half-listened as Helena explained about Charles and about the bronzer, paying more attention to Helena’s tone of voice than to her words; she knew the story after all. There was a tremor in Helena’s words that made Myka promise herself one thing: Helena would never ever be bronzed again. Not for a second. Not if she could help it. Nor would anyone ever mess with Helena’s body, or mind, or memories again. 

“Awake!” she heard Emmet exclaim in a horrified voice. “That must have been awful.” There was a pause, and then he went on, “I… I wouldn’t have chosen that either.”

“Knowing, now, what the consequences of that choice were, I might have,” Helena replied. “I’m as much responsible for this situ-”

“No.” Myka had to stop that train of thought. “No, you’re not,” she went on. “Just because you said yes to Kosan’s impossible choice doesn’t mean this is your fault. Do not blame yourself for this, okay? You didn’t know this would happen; if you had, you would have fought tooth and nail against it. This is not your fault.”

“But I did know,” Helena said tonelessly.

“You wh- you did?”

“My only excuse,” Helena said, “is that I did not think it through to its inevitable conclusion. Kosan told me that my body would be out in the world, living the life of an amnesiac. I _did_ know that part of it; I even asked to retain my love of literature. I simply did not consider the consequences – that you,” she looked at Emmet, “would create, would need to create, your own narrative of who you were; would build your life, your personality, out of what you were given and what you found within yourself. That is what I meant; _that_ is what I am responsible for, and that is why I am truly, truly sorry. I could not pick the bronze, not again, not after the first time. The mere thought-” she broke off; her voice had been going tight over the last few words, bordering on panicked, and Myka renewed her vow to herself, that nobody would ever make Helena go through that again. “I am so very, very sorry,” Helena finished tonelessly. 

Emmet was silent for a long time. Myka had no idea what might be going through his head – what would anyone think, when confronted with this?

Apparently, he chose to ignore it for now. “Back… back when… when you were actually bronzed,” Emmet said, “what… why was that?”

Now Helena was silent, for long enough that Myka began to wonder if she’d answer the question at all. Then she said, quietly, almost inaudible over the sound of the car, “I had a daughter. Christina. She was… murdered, and I was unable to prevent it. However, I had access to all these artifacts that did all these wondrous things, and so I tried to save her ex post facto. That wasn’t allowed, but the Regents of the time showed me lenience until… until I was responsible for the death of a colleague. So I asked to be bronzed as punishment,” she finished, “and the Regents of that time said yes.”

“You… asked?”

“It seemed… bearable, considering the alternative,” Helena replied. “Even knowing that I’d be conscious during that time didn’t deter me then.” 

“What alternative did _those_ Regents give you?”

Helena laughed hollowly. “Bedlam,” she said. “An institution for the mentally ill, you would call it these days. Back then, it was simply called a madhouse. Put me in there, no one would believe anything I’d say, including any claims of weird artifact goings-on I might utter. And I’d live out the rest of my life unable to convince anyone that I was not, in fact, insane. Add to that my ability to change my actual physical body to fit my gender, and how scientists of that time used to treat such _abnormalities_ ,” her voice was caustic on the word, “and you have an idea of why anything seemed better than that.”

“Shit,” Emmet said in a choked voice. “Yeah, no, I wouldn’t have picked that either.” In the car’s mirror, Myka could see him shake his head. “The Regents aren’t too good about presenting actual choices, are they?”

“So it would appear,” Helena said tersely. 

“And why…” Emmet paused, then forged on, “What did you do this time? Kosan… he said something about ending… ending the world?”

“When I was in the bronze,” Helena said, “anger, hate, guilt – it all festered in me, grew like a cancer. Lacking outside influence, my thoughts spiraled inwards. All I thought about was what I’d lost, what the Warehouse had taken from me, what it had turned me into. When I was unbronzed, my subsequent experiences led me to believe that times hadn’t changed; that humanity hadn’t learned, hadn’t improved; that it was, in fact, unable to. In my… hubris, I set out to… wipe the slate clean, if you will. Bring about an incident so catastrophic, humanity would be forced to start over, and hopefully do better.”

“Holy shit,” Emmet whispered.

“Thankfully, something happened that convinced me of the error of my ways,” Helena said. “I stopped what I had already set in motion, and turned myself in. I think you’re aware of how the rest of the story has played itself out.”

“What was it?”

“Hm?”

“What convinced you that what you were doing was wrong?”

Myka looked into the rear view mirror in time to meet Helena’s gaze. They shared a moment, then Helena broke away, bowed her head, cleared her throat and said, “I had an epiphany, if you will.”

“Oh… kay,” Emmet said slowly, sounding confused, looking between the two of them. “Say, have you ever… I don’t know, considered therapy? I mean I’ve gotten some, and I’m just an amnesiac, or so I thought anyway. It helped. It really did. Helped me come to terms with how I confused I felt, how helpless. Maybe… maybe give it a try?”

Myka held her breath. She’d had the same thought, and had never brought it up, because there never had been a right moment, and here Emmet Lake blithely stated it out loud. 

“I’ll… look into it,” Helena said stiffly. 

Myka exhaled. That could have gone worse, she told herself. It was a start.

“That’s all I ask,” Emmet replied. 

They drove in silence for a while. 

“So, then,” Emmet picked up the thread, “you said no to being bronzed again, which, like I said, I understand. And you picked the – what was it?”

“The Janus Coin,” Helena provided.

“Yeah. The Janus Coin instead. And that, what? Separated me and you, and turned me… turned me into a guy? How does _that_ work?”

Myka found herself listening closely; she wanted to know that too.

“Even when I was a child,” Helena said, “I knew that I was not a boy all the time. I… wavered, if you will, between feeling male and feeling female. Not the most commonly known and understood concept even these days, and in the late nineteenth century, virtually unheard of. My parents were confused – helpful, but not really in a position to offer much assistance. After long years of searching and turmoil, I found a man who understood, and who offered me a solution. An artifact, just like the Janus Coin, only with more… beneficial effects. Afterwards, I had the ability to change my physical appearance to match which gender I felt like, more or less at will.” 

“Whoa,” Emmet breathed. “Okay. I think I understand that. But… but I never felt that way?”

“I asked Kosan to make absolutely certain of that,” Helena said. “When he took my memories, obviously among them was the memory that I was able to change that way, so of course my body would be in its male form, the way I was born. I… was concerned for my future self – artifacts are secret; being able to change your physical body at will as the result of artifact use is something that also needs to be kept secret, and I did not want to… saddle you with that. So I named it as a condition, and Kosan said he’d be able to ensure that.”

Emmet was nodding slowly. “Probably a good idea,” he said with a small helpless laugh. “Waking up gender-flipped one morning would have freaked me the hell out. And I really had enough freak-outs as it was.”

There was a long, heavy silence.

Then, “May I ask you something?” Helena asked, and when Emmet nodded, went on, “Would you tell me about yourself? I barely know anything of you, and I… I very much would like to amend that.”

“Oh!” Emmet exclaimed. “Uh, I… I’m a substitute teacher at Lincoln High, English literature – oh, this is so weird. _So_ weird. I mean you are… you’re H.G. Wells.” He laughed, and it sounded wild. “I guess _I_ am…” he shook his head and his voice dropped away. “But I’m not H.G. Wells? This is insane,” he whispered. Myka heard him gulp. “But I mean, you’re right here, except you’re not, because you’re a hologram, and I’ve talked with a woman who then disappeared into thin air – is she a hologram too? Is that what that was?”

“Mrs. Frederic?” Myka shook her head. “No, she’s as solid as you and me. We don’t know how she does it, and I think she doesn’t age, or ages vey slowly, but I think other than that she’s pretty normal.”

Emmet laughed his helpless laugh again. “Other than that, yeah.” He fell silent, and when Myka looked into the mirror, she saw that he was staring out the window into the darkness beyond. 

“I realize this is a lot to take in,” Myka said, feeling as helpless as Emmet’s laughter had sounded. 

“Certainly not what I was hoping for when I wished for getting my memories back,” Emmet told the night. He sighed. “Tell me this isn’t normal, even for you guys with all your weird shit going on?”

“No, it’s not,” Myka said immediately. “I’ve been dealing with this kind of stuff for a year now, and this… this isn’t normal by any standard.” 

“These Regents… what are they Regents of? What’s their authority? They can’t just… they won’t just do this to other people, just like they did to me? Us?”

“No, they won’t,” Helena said. “I do know for a fact that this,” she nodded at the orb sitting in Emmet’s lap, “is the only one of its kind.”

“So if we destroy it-” 

“Whoa,” Myka interrupted him. “I mean. Destroy?”

“She did say that it was in our hands now,” Emmet said. “That Regent. Jane.”

“Yeah, but-”

“And _you_ said it stopped here.”

Myka swore under her breath. “Yeah, I did, but…”

“You have to know,” Helena told Emmet in a stage whisper, “that our Myka here is the dictionary definition of ‘by the book’. Spontaneous destruction of one-of-a-kind artifacts doesn’t sit well with her.”

“Hey!” Myka protested. 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Helena challenged her, and Emmet actually chuckled. 

It was for that chuckle more than anything that Myka hammed up her reply, opening and shutting her mouth a few times, then shaking her head and waving her hand. “Fine,” she said. “Sure. Let’s go ahead and destr- God, I can’t even say it.”

Emmet laughed out loud. 

It sounded nothing like Helena’s laughter, and yet it undeniably also did.

Myka felt her own throat constrict. 

It wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was fair by any standard. 

Her knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. 

There was a long silence that got more awkward the longer it lasted.

Then Emmet spoke up, all traces of laughter gone from his voice. “What will happen when we get…” he hesitated, then said the word with a hopelessness that broke Myka’s heart, “back to my place?” 

No longer ‘home’. Myka gulped.

“It’s _your_ place,” Helena said. “What do you want to happen?”

Emmet huffed bitterly. “I suppose it’s no use saying ‘for none of this to have happened’, right?” He sighed. “Food for Dickens is the easy answer; food for you too, if you want any. A beer, or something stronger. After that, put you back in here, I guess.” He sounded acerbic as he gestured down his body, and Myka couldn’t fault him. 

“It doesn’t have to happen tonight,” Helena offered.

“Yes it does,” Emmet said tonelessly. “Please don’t draw this out. I might forget all my reasoning for this kind of self-sacrifice tomorrow.” 

“Of course. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

Again, they drove in silence. Again, it was Emmet who broke it. “Will you take care of Dickens?”

Myka was about to answer with a diplomatic but vague promise to see to Dickens’ future, but to her surprise, Helena beat her to it, saying very definitely, “Yes. There is a dog and a ferret already where we live; he should fit right in.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“I feel like I should make a joke about H.G. Wells taking care of Dickens,” Emmet said in a tired voice, “but for the life of me I can’t think of any.”

“Probably best,” Helena said. 

“Yeah.” Another, shorter pause, then he said, “And someone needs to call Lincoln High. I wish I-” he broke off, and Myka heard him swallow. “I wish I could tell my students.”

“We’ll let them know,” Myka said. 

“Thank you.”

“Sure.” Myka nodded at him in the rear view mirror. “We’re almost there, by the way.” She saw him press his lips together and empathized – every mile closer, every minute that passed, would bring him closer to… well, oblivion. “Sorry.” It felt like the most inadequate word ever.

“It’s… it’s okay.”

Myka didn’t contradict the claim, although she knew, Helena knew, Emmet knew: nothing was okay. 

They drove the rest of the way in silence.


	5. Chapter 5

Dickens the cat was indeed indignantly hungry when they arrived. Emmet fed him, and Myka took note of the brand of cat food he used. 

“So, can I get you anything?” Emmet asked her then. 

Myka shook her head. Food was the last thing on her mind. From the look of him, Emmet felt the same. 

“Let’s sit down then, I guess,” he sighed, and pointed towards the couch. 

“Have you thought about…” Myka began, then hesitated. How did you ask someone if they’d given any thought about their upcoming… death? In so many words? “Do you know how…?”

“How I want this to go down?” Emmet asked as he sat down at the far end of the couch. “Yeah, actually. I… if it’s at all possible, I’d like to just fall asleep and not wake up. Or rather, wake up as… as you, I suppose,” he said, catching Helena’s eyes. He turned back to Myka. “If you know what I mean?”

Myka nodded, sitting down at the other end. “I can do it after you’ve fallen asleep,” she said, “that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Emmet glanced up at Helena, who was hovering just inside the door, and waved her closer. “Please, come on over,” he invited her. “Sit down, too.”

Helena made her way further into the apartment and looked helplessly at the available seats. “Would either of you mind?”

Every chair that was left in the apartment was either pushed into desk or dining table.

“Oh!” Emmet got up immediately and grasped one of the dining chairs, turning it around so that Helena could sit facing them.

“Thank you,” Helena said quietly, almost dispiritedly, as she sank into it.

Emmet rubbed his forehead. Then he laughed quietly. “This morning I was wondering about doing groceries after work,” he murmured. “Fuck.” And he began to cry. 

With a little purring meow, Dickens jumped up on the sofa and butted his head into Emmet’s arm – once, twice, three times, until Emmet scooped him up and held him close. 

“I’m so sorry, buddy,” he whispered to the cat, over and over again. 

Helena caught Myka’s eyes with an imploring expression. Myka, unsure of what Helena was asking of her, furrowed her eyebrows in question. Helena nodded towards Emmet pointedly. Myka blinked. Was Helena… asking her to… console Emmet somehow? Helena nodded her head that way again, even more emphatically, and Myka, feeling awkward, scooted closer to Emmet on the couch. 

“Hey,” she said softly, questioningly. “Emmet, hey.” She reached out and lightly touched the man’s upper arm. Neither he nor Dickens gave any reaction, so Myka scooted still closer and put her arm tentatively around Emmet’s shoulder. At this, Emmet leaned into her and she put her other arm around him, too. Dickens, startled and jostled, hopped off his lap onto the armrest. Then, when Emmet quietened in Myka’s arms, Dickens wedged himself between the armrest and Emmet’s thigh, kneading the latter and purring loudly.

“He’s a good bud,” Emmet said thickly, and stroked the cat’s head. “He knows when I need him.”

“I’m sure he does,” Myka said and meant it. She hadn’t grown up with pets, but Dickens did seem truly concerned. She briefly wondered if he would know when it happened, if he would treat Helena, who clearly detested cats, the same way he did Emmet. 

Probably not. 

Emmet was full-on sobbing by now, and Myka felt awkward – she couldn’t very well say ‘it’s alright’, or ‘it’ll be okay’, could she. Things weren’t alright, and they wouldn’t be okay. “I’m sorry,” she said, but once again it felt lame, dull, inadequate.

He sniffed, trying to pull himself together. “I know,” he said. He sniffed again, then wiped his face and sat up straight, and Myka withdrew her arms. “Will you…” Emmet looked at Helena. “Will you remember me? I mean, will my… my memories, my thoughts, will they… live on, I guess I’m asking?”

Helena took in a deep breath – or seemed to, in her holographic form. “I don’t know,” she said, then turned to Myka. “Has Mrs. Frederic mentioned anything to you?”

Myka shook her head. “No,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Helena turned back to Emmet. “Are there… do you have memories that are important to you, that you’d like to… share with us, so that they won’t get lost? Myka here has the ability to remember everything; whatever you tell us, she’ll retain.”

Emmet blinked and wiped his hands across his cheeks again. “I…” he began, then shook his head. “I want to say ‘everything’,” he continued tonelessly, and then gave another helpless laugh, “but then who wouldn’t, right? I guess the… the way some of the students have already bonded with me. The way we… connect, you know? When something I say makes sense to them, when they suddenly understand something they’ve been struggling with. And the way this guy here,” he stroked Dickens’ head, “comes snuggle whenever I cry.” He gave Myka and Helena a shaky smile. “Not particularly manly, I guess, but… you gotta cry sometimes, right? I just… I didn’t _understand_. I always thought if I just understood what happened to me, it would all make sense, but… I mean I understand the words you’re saying but they don’t… they don’t make any _sense_. It’s fantastical. And if I hadn’t seen you put your… your _goddamn_ arm in the car seat-” he broke off, as if that sudden expletive had sucked the strength to go on right out of him. 

“Emmet, I-” Myka began.

“I am Emmet Arnold Lake,” Emmet interrupted her, forcing out the words. Then, more loudly, more clearly, he repeated them. “I am Emmet! Arnold! Lake! I… they say all art is people trying to make the world remember them somehow, and all that people want is to be seen and respected as a person, and I… I am a _person_ , but you’re telling me I’m not, and I…” he gestured helplessly. His eyes filled again, and he hid his face behind his hands. “I just… I never thought I…”

“I know,” Myka said, feeling helpless and inadequate to the point of anger. She reached out for Emmet’s shoulder, but he pulled away from the touch. 

“You can’t! How the fuck do you think you can know?!”

“You’re right,” Myka backtracked, “I can’t _know_. You’re right. I can only empathize. And I know that won’t ever be the same. I’m sorry. Emmet, I’m sorry.”

“All I am is a… a way of keeping this body walking and talking!” 

“For what it’s worth,” Helena interjected, “I don’t think the Regents ever really thought about putting us back together again. For them – or Kosan, rather – this was a permanent solution. You would have been… you would have stayed… yourself, had things gone according to his design.”

Emmet’s hands sank down, and he stared at Helena. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No,” Helena said quickly, looking just as powerless as Myka felt. “No, but…” she blinked, suddenly. “Say, do you have a piece of paper and a pen?”

Emmet furrowed his brow. “Wh- I mean yeah. Yes.”

“Would you get both?”

Emmet stared at Helena for a moment longer, then shrugged, got up, and went to the desk to retrieve the two requested implements. 

“Would you write something? Anything, really,” Helena asked. “Your name, a sentence, anything.”

Again, Emmet gave her a baffled look. Then he bent over the paper and wrote, defiant to the point that the fountain pen’s tip scratched jarringly, ‘I am Emmet Arnold Lake.’

“Myka?” Helena asked. “I realize I’m unable to write something myself, but you know my handwriting if anyone does – is it at all similar to Emmet’s?”

It was Myka’s turn for a baffled look now, but then she realized what Helena was aiming for. She held out her hand, and Emmet passed the paper over wordlessly. Myka immediately shook her head. “No,” she said. Then she looked closer, perused the writing for a moment, and added, “There are a few letters that are similar, but most are not. The capital E, that’s different. The lower-case m’s and k’s, too. Emmet, this is very much your own handwriting. I… I don’t have any way to prove this; I don’t have anything with Helena’s handwriting on it on me, but please believe me – your handwriting and hers are different.” She put the paper down on the coffee table.

“Okay,” Emmet said slowly. “And is _that_ supposed to make me feel any better?”

“I had hoped for it, yes,” Helena said. “Emmet, you are very much an individual. You have traits that are uniquely yours, and-”

“But that’s just it,” he interrupted angrily. “For all of that, I’m not enough of a person to stay alive. That’s what it boils down to, isn’t it. So… so _fucking_ _what_ about my handwriting! It could be the most fucking _unique_ handwriting you’ve ever seen and it wouldn’t make a fucking ounce of difference!” He jumped up from the couch and stormed from the room. Dickens followed right on his heels, tail high and puffed out in solidarity.

Helena grimaced. “That backfired. I’m sorry; I truly thought it would help.”

“I know,” Myka said. She felt suddenly extremely tired – it had been a long day. She propped her head into her hands, staring unseeingly at the piece of paper on the table. “This is so, so fucked up.”

“Absolutely agreed.”

“I better go after him,” Myka said slowly and made to get up. 

But Emmet was already back in the room. “Running away doesn’t solve things,” he said sourly, “that’s what I tell my students, anyway. So I guess I should heed my own advice.” He stalked over and sat down on the couch. 

Dickens, again, followed him, jumped up on the couch, sat down between him and Myka, and gave Myka the angriest glare she’d ever gotten from a cat.

“I’m sorry,” she told the cat. “I really, really wish things were different. This isn’t fair, not at all.”

“No,” Emmet sighed, “it isn’t.” He put his head in his hands, mirroring Myka’s earlier posture. “God, I just…” He shook his head. “There were so many things I wanted to do. Get better at driving, and go on a trip somewhere. Get better at teaching, not just hand out pre-prepared sheets.” He pointed at the bookshelves and said, “I haven’t read more than a dozen of these yet. So many things…”

Myka kept her silence – she had no idea what to say. Helena didn’t say anything either. 

“Haven’t even kissed anyone,” Emmet said with a small hiccup of a laugh. “Just read about it.” He looked at Myka. “Does it really feel that way?”

Myka blinked. Where had _that_ question come from? “What way?” she tried to stall. 

“Like the best thing in the universe. Like you can’t breathe but you don’t mind as long as you can keep kissing. Like you’re on fire and drowning at the same time and you don’t care as long as you can keep kissing.”

Myka’s eyebrows rose. “I… I suppose,” she said, and it sounded weak even to her own ears. “With the right person,” she added conscientiously. 

Emmet’s eyes flickered over to where Helena sat, as if asking a silent question. Before Myka could look over too, to see what was going on, he asked, “Can we try?”

“Ca- what?” Myka asked. 

“Myka, a moment of your time, please?” Helena asked and, without waiting for an answer, rose and headed around the corner towards the kitchen. 

Myka followed. “Helena, what-”

“Myka!” Emmet called out and, when Myka turned, held up the orb.

She hurried back to him, took the orb, headed back to the kitchen. 

“Please, shut the door,” Helena said. “Only for a moment.”

Myka obliged. Then she turned to Helena. “What the-”

“Myka, _please_.” 

Myka fell silent immediately – she had never heard such a tone of voice come from Helena’s mouth. Supplication, pain, heartbreak; all of these were riding on Helena’s words.

“Could you… if you could see your way… Myka, would you please consider to… to give him that?”

Myka blinked. “But…”

“Call it instinct, or some form of connection,” Helena said, still speaking low and urgent, “but I know that he… that he _wants_ you. The experience of… intimacy, both literally and of the emotional kind. The connection to another. The humanity of it. He wants to have that, and to be honest, I understand. To know you’re not going to be able to do the things you wanted to do because you’re out of time is one thing, but _this_ , there is time enough for tonight. And I also understand it needs two people’s consent, and if you’re not willing, I’m sure you’ll find a gentle, kind way to let him know that, but-”

“But wouldn’t you mind?!”

Helena pulled back as if affronted. “I? Why would I mind?”

Myka stared at her. “Because it’s your body? Isn’t it? Even in this form?”

“Not right now it’s not,” Helena said dryly. “And frankly, this is a use of any body of which I am fully approving at any time, given mutual agreement.”

“I…” Myka blinked. “You…”

“If you cannot see yourself doing this, by all means don’t,” Helena went on. “I do not want to pressure you in any way, and I am certain that neither would he. All I’m asking you is to consider it, only for tonight. If the answer is no, then that’s perfectly alright.”

Myka blinked again. “Let me think about it for a moment,” she said. “But what about you, though? I mean would you… you can’t really take part, right?”

“My presence, even as a hologram, would only complicate matters, I believe,” Helena said with a self-deprecating little shrug. “Any benefit you might gain from me being able to point out erogenous zones would be far outweighed by the… resulting awkwardness.”

“Yeah,” Myka said, immediately catching on. “Yeah, no, I get that.” _How did I end up here, having this conversation,_ she wondered. _How. How?!  
_  
“So you could either leave me out here to my own devices, or… turn me off, I suppose is the best way to put it.”

Myka swallowed. She hated the thought of… switching Helena off. “Which one do _you_ want?” she asked. 

Helena pondered the question for a moment. “Time doesn’t pass for me in my… off state, I suppose you could call it,” she said finally. “Which I find… disorienting, but I’m certain it will be alright this time. Just… just be careful, alright?” She looked down at the black orb with a mixture of dread and protectiveness. 

“Of course.” Myka nodded. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” She tilted her head. “Should I… you know… turn you off, right now?”

Helena hesitated, but then nodded, and with an apologetic grimace, Myka twisted the orb to turn off the hologram. It felt weird, bordering on awful, to be the cause of Helena dissolving, but at least she was doing it with Helena’s consent. 

Then she squared her shoulders and opened the door. 

Emmet was looking at her with apprehension and hope in his eyes. 

Myka took a deep breath. “Yes,” she said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's kissy stuff already in this chapter, but no actual action. Nevertheless, if you're not here for M/F, best skip this one, too.

Emmet gave a small gasp and got to his feet, almost clumsy in his hurry. “I… okay, um, I… oh wow. I didn’t think… She… she didn’t _make_ you, though, did she?”

Myka smiled and shook her head. “She simply asked me to consider it,” she said. “And I have, and I think it’s worth a try. I mean we do need to see if we… if we click. If kissing even does anything for either of us. You know?”

Emmet was nodding very seriously. “Of course, yes. Of course. But you… you’re okay with this?” He suddenly blushed and dropped his gaze. “I… god, I feel so awkward asking this. Like… like the typical, can’t-keep-it-in-his-pants kinda guy. And I’m not – at least I don’t think so? But then I think, I don’t really have a way of knowing. Like, if I’m really… her,” he nodded towards the orb in Myka’s hands, “then… then you know me better than I know myself. At least that’s the feeling I’m getting from you two.”

“I… do know Helena pretty well, yeah.” Myka cleared her throat as she stepped around the coffee table, then put the orb down on it. “But you’re not her. Personality-wise. You’re very much _you_. And I haven’t gotten any can’t-keep-it-in-his-pants vibes from you. I…” she sighed softly. “I understand why you want this. Just… one thing, okay?” She bit her lip – she had to make sure of this. “This doesn’t change anything,” she said, her voice quiet and intent. “This isn’t going to be kissing, then declaring undying love and riding into the sunset together. _You_ would like to experience kissing, _I_ can help with that, and if you want more than just kissing, I can help with that too if you like. But there’s nothing deeper to it, okay? I need to be clear on this, and I need _you_ to be clear on it too.”

Emmet nodded again. “Absolutely clear,” he said. He stilled, and then took a deep breath. “I’m… trying,” he went on. “Trying not to hope, not to cling to… to something I have no claim to. I promise. I promise I’m trying; I promise I’m doing my best to… to let go. I just… I just really want to kiss you. Just so that I know what it feels like.”

“Alright,” Myka said. “Good.”

“H-how do we do this?”

Myka held out her hand, and Emmet grasped it immediately, as if he was desperate for contact – which, Myka reasoned, he might have been. Reassurance, if anything, that this – either this particular situation or the whole of what had happened today – was real. “If you want to,” she said, “you can set the pace. Or I can lead. Whichever you like; whichever works better for you.”

Emmet swallowed. It was easy to distinguish him from Helena, Myka thought. Yes, his face was her face only in masculine, but the expression it showed now – Helena had never looked that way. Shy, indecisive, intermingled with excitement that was completely unguarded, and urgency that was fully understandable. 

“I would like to kiss you,” Emmet Arnold Lake told Myka, and even his weird, not-quite-American way of pronouncing things was easier to listen to now. “Don’t know about anything beyond that, but… I’d like to be the one kissing you. Is that okay?”

“Totally.” Myka found a smile for him, tried to make it as reassuring as holding his hand had been. “Take your time.”

Emmet nodded, and stepped close enough that Myka could feel his body’s warmth. And for the first time, Myka realized that she had to look slightly up to meet his eyes – that was new. That was decidedly different. Helena was two inches shorter than her, and even if she sometimes wore heels, they usually weren’t tall enough to make Myka look up. But Emmet? Emmet was a solid inch taller than her, she was sure. 

With his free hand, Emmet reached up to Myka’s face and ran his finger down Myka’s cheek. “I… is this okay, too?” he asked, suddenly withdrawing his hand as if he’d burned his fingers. “I didn’t ask consent for that, I hope I’m not-”

“You’re okay,” Myka said truthfully. “Thanks for asking, and yes, you’re right, but you’re okay. This is okay.” 

Emmet hand resumed its caress of Myka’s cheek. “Your skin is so soft,” he marveled. 

Myka smiled. “Surely not that big of a surprise,” she replied easily.

“Well, I guess, but…” Emmet was now fully focused on Myka’s cheek, right down to a familiar furrow of concentration between his brows. “I mean I didn’t really know before. Not firsthand, as it were. That’s kinda the whole point.”

Myka couldn’t help herself – she snorted. And then she saw the look in Emmet’s eyes, the silent plea. “Would you like me to touch your cheek like that?” she asked, giving voice to what she saw.

Emmet slowly nodded. “If… if that’s okay with you?”

“Absolutely,” Myka replied. Her hand found his cheek unerringly – and it was then, as she touched that cheek, that the reality hit her. 

This _was_ Helena’s body. Helena’s male form – H.G. Wells, assigned male at birth, but unhappy enough with that to have sought out artifact help. The body she knew as Helena – wasn’t how this person had been born. 

_This_ was. 

But they both were part of the person Myka knew. Bi-gender, and through artifact help able to change their body to fit. And just because Myka hadn’t known didn’t make it any less real for H.G. Wells. 

She wondered how many other people knew, and how many of those H.G. had confided in voluntarily. She couldn’t imagine that Kosan was among that second group. Was she herself in it? Helena hadn’t told her, either. Had she wanted to, at least? Had that, too, been thwarted when she’d gone to the Regents and never come back?

Myka blinked. She couldn’t well ask right now; Emmet didn’t know. And _he_ was who she was with, right now; he was who she should be focusing on. 

Emmet had noticed Myka’s hesitation – of course he had, Myka told herself, they were mere inches apart. “Is everything okay?” he asked. His eyes were filled with his own hesitation, his hope, his anxiousness – so different from Helena, who’d rarely if ever allowed her eyes to show this much emotion. 

It helped Myka regain her sense of who was in front of her. She nodded, and added for good measure, “Yes.”

“Good,” Emmet breathed, leaned forward, and pressed a kiss onto Myka’s lips. 

Myka felt a shiver run through him, and wrapped her arm around his waist to steady him. 

Emmet all but melted into the embrace, as if he’d been waiting for it his whole life. “Oh,” he murmured, withdrawing from Myka’s lips to lean against her forehead. “Oh, this is…” Myka let go of his hand to embrace him more fully, and again, he shivered. Then he returned Myka’s embrace with a sigh. “Oh wow,” he said with quiet awe. Then he froze. “Oh… oh my.” 

The last words were said with trepidation, and Myka knew why – she could feel it growing at her waist. She bit back a smile, though; he sounded genuinely concerned. “Are you okay?” 

“Uh…” he stuttered, pulling back and dropping his arms. “I, um…”

“Hey,” Myka said, and allowed her smile onto her face, if only a little. “That just means that everything is in working order, okay? Don’t worry about it. Or rather, I’d have been worried about it if it hadn’t happened.”

Emmet gave her a sheepish grin in return and scratched the back of his head. “That hug was just so incredible,” he said. “Like, I’ve hugged people before, but… but not like this.” He stepped closer. “May I?” When Myka nodded, he took her in his arms again and ran his hands up her back and down again. “This is… if this was water, I’d drink it all, if this was food, I’d eat it all, I…” he shook his head and pulled Myka closer, “I want all of this, I…” he broke off and instead resumed kissing Myka again.

She’d kissed Helena before – and Emmet kissed differently, that much was sure, even discounting the light stubble on his chin. Emmet was hesitant and inexperienced, and it showed. But he was enthusiastic and a fast learner, and however much Myka wanted to hold her emotions apart, she found that she was being pulled into this kiss, into this embrace. Emmet’s body was solid in her arms, responsive, _eager_.

Myka broke the kiss. Her face was flushed and her breath was coming faster, and the same was true for Emmet, and they hadn’t even open-mouth-kissed yet.

“Whoa,” he said quietly. “You…” his eyes roamed Myka’s face, lingering on her mouth, then coming back up to her eyes. “I can see the appeal now,” he said finally, with a small laugh. 

Myka grinned back at him. “Good,” she said. “Listen, if you still want to continue this, we can, but maybe we could… relocate?”

He picked up on her intent immediately. “Bed?” he asked, his eyes afire with renewed enthusiasm. 

“Well, shower first,” Myka amended, “but then bed, yes.” It had been a long day, and if this was to go down, she wanted Emmet – or herself, for that matter – not to have to worry about BO or the likes. 

Emmet nodded quickly. “I’ll show you the bathroom. Feel free to make use of anything you find in there, even if it’s just,” he shrugged and smiled apologetically, “guy stuff.”

“It’ll be fine,” Myka said, then held up her hand. “Please tell me you have a guest toothbrush though.”

His smile steadied and he nodded. “Razor, too, if you want,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Should I shave or not? What would you like?”

“Shave,” Myka told him. If he was asking; if she had a choice? “Please. Razor burn sucks.” 

He nodded, then gestured for Myka to go first. When she came into the bedroom wrapped only in a towel – she had been in her clothes all day, and frankly, she hadn’t seen the point of putting them back on – his eyes widened, then he blinked and laughed. “Expediency, huh?” 

She shrugged with a grin of her own. “That’s kinda what I thought, yeah.”

“I see.” And he jumped up from the bed and headed for the bathroom, himself. 

Myka busied herself looking around his bedroom while she waited for him to return. He had a full bed that was haphazardly made, a wealth of books on shelves and three of them on his bedside table, and curtains that probably had come with the apartment. It was pretty clear where his priorities were, and that was fine by her. The topmost book on his bedside table was Morrison’s Beloved – an unusual choice for a guy, maybe, but not for an English teacher. 

There was a knock on the door, and Emmet was back, slightly flushed, with a towel around his waist and a bottle of aftershave lotion in his hand. His hair was free now, hanging loosely across his shoulders. He held up the bottle. “I, uh… I was wondering if I should put this on, or if it would… I don’t know, taste bad?”

Myka laughed. “Good thinking,” she said, and gestured for him to put the bottle on a shelf. “If you’re fine with it, I’d rather not lick aftershave off your jaw.”

He gulped, put the bottle down, and grabbed the towel to keep it from falling – because Myka’s words had clearly affected not just his brain. “Whoa,” he muttered.

Myka grinned good-naturedly at him. “Slight disadvantage you have there,” she teased. “Like I said, though – don’t be self-conscious about it. I mean, if you’re uncomfortable, absolutely tell me; this is supposed to be enjoyable. But please don’t feel self-conscious about being aroused, okay?”

Emmet blinked, then took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “I, uh… is it okay if we drop these? I… I want to see you,” he said, looking flushed. “Like, I know – well, I’ve read anyway – about, you know, sexy undressing that takes forever, but I just…” he swallowed, and his eyes dropped to the upper border of Myka’s towel, stretched across her breasts. Then he shook his head. “God, I sound like I’m the horniest jock ever, but I swear I’m not… a letch or anything.”

Myka was still grinning. “You’re curious,” she said easily, “nothing wrong with that. Here, I’ll start.”

She dropped her towel. A few moments later, so did Emmet. His hands seemed to want to cup protectively around his erection for a moment, then he let them drop, too, with a little tense shrug. They stood opposite each other for a moment, and Myka saw his eyes roaming her whole body now, not just her face or cleavage. 

She did the same – she knew Helena’s body, of course, but this was not that. Or rather, this was a different version of that. Emmet had a slender built, too, with a runner’s muscle rather than a wrestler’s, and a bit of softness that was probably the result of several weeks’ worth of not being a Warehouse agent with rather strict fitness requirements. No chest hair, Myka noted, wondering if he’d shaved that too, or if he just didn’t have any in the first place. Pubes he did have, neatly trimmed but not a lot – just like Helena did. So probably his chest was naturally this smooth, too. His penis was large, though a bit more in girth than in length, and fully erect. 

Myka was at ease with the label bisexual and had been for a long time. She’d had hook-ups with guys and with women, and one time with a person who was neither, and she’d enjoyed herself most times. She’d never been someone’s first though – that she knew of – and that was making her a bit nervous. 

However, nowhere near as nervous as Emmet looked. He seemed rooted to the spot but vibrating with his need to _not_ be rooted to the spot. His eyes were wide, and moving avidly across Myka’s body; his face was completely and utterly unguarded, and his mouth stood slightly open. Then they flicked up and met Myka’s, and he blushed again and quickly looked away. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

Myka shook her head and took his hand. “Nothing to be sorry for,” she said. “I’m doing the same.”

“It’s just…” he was still unable to meet her eyes, and she saw him grit his teeth briefly. “I want to do this right. I want this to be good. And there are so, _so_ many things I want to do, and I have no idea where to _start_. Like, not just which one to pick of what I want to do, but what would be the right thing to start with.” His eyes flicked up to hers once more and then dropped again. 

“I understand,” Myka told him, as reassuringly as she could. “But, hey, we do have time enough to try out a few things, okay? So don’t worry – if we don’t start with something, that doesn’t mean it’s never gonna happen.”

Emmet’s jaw worked for a moment, then he nodded. “I…” he began, then fell silent again. His mouth opened and shut a few times. 

“Whatever it is,” Myka said, “I’m not gonna judge, okay. Just tell me.”

“I feel like the moment you touch me or I touch you, I’m gonna come,” he said, words tumbling over themselves in his haste. “And I don’t want that. I mean what’s the point of point five seconds and bam?” His ears were bright pink.

“Well, do you know your recuperation period?” Myka asked. 

This brought his eyes up to hers. He blinked. “Uh… couple minutes?”

“Well, there you go, then,” she told him. “If the first time takes point five seconds, then we’ll just draw the second time out a bit longer.” She shrugged again, with a grin. 

Emmet looked at her as if she was a revelation. 

“Hey, really, there’s no pressure here, okay?” Myka went on. “Like, zero. This is about enjoying ourselves. There won’t be any performance rating other than ‘did you have a good time’. So just… take a breath, don’t worry, and let’s just take this as it comes.”

“O-okay.” Emmet nodded. His shoulders lost some of their tension. Then he took a breath, as though he’d just thought of something. “Oh! Um. I, uh… back when all this, uh, began,” he gestured around himself, “Doctor… well, _Mister_ Kosan,” he amended with a sour twist to his mouth, “said I had a clean bill of health, including STDs. Just… just FYI. And I haven’t… I mean there’s… uh, zero reason that that should no longer be the case. If you… know what I mean.”

Myka nodded. It was sweet of him to think of that. “Thanks,” she said with a smile. 

He gestured to his bedside table. “I still, y’know, got condoms. Like the hopeful definitely-not-a-jock that I am.”

At that, she laughed out loud. “No, that’s alright,” she said. “I mean if you feel more comfortable with them, fine with me, but I’m up to date on my birth control, and I’m negative on all STDs too.” Her face softened into a smile. “I really appreciate your thoughtfulness,” she said. “That is absolutely the right way to do this.”

Emmet swallowed and shyly smiled back. “Your laugh is amazing,” he said, completely artlessly and completely charming.

Myka blushed. She couldn’t help but smile some more, in a mixture of self-consciousness and appreciation. She also couldn’t help but feel drawn to this guy – he wasn’t Helena, sure; he wasn’t even a male version of Helena, who probably would have delivered any such compliment in a much smoother fashion, and wouldn’t have been stalling and hesitating before even so much as touching Myka, but Emmet was kind, and earnest, and witty in his own way. And she had to consciously push away the thought that he wouldn’t be around for long – that she’d only get Helena back, physically, fully back, by sacrificing him. 

_Maybe he’ll live on in her_ , she told herself.In Helena. Or H.G., or whichever name they wanted to go forward with from here. _Even if not, though, I will remember you, Emmet Arnold Lake._

“May I kiss you?” she asked him, in an effort to no longer think of these things. 

Emmet hesitated and cast a sidelong glance at his dick. “Um…”

“With the caveat that it might overwhelm you duly noted,” Myka added with a grin. “Maybe we should aim for that, you know. Take the edge off, as it were. Help you focus.”

He blinked. “Well, that’s one way of looking at it,” he said. 

“Let’s kiss, and see how it goes,” she suggested. 

He nodded. “Sounds good to me.”


	7. Chapter 7

Myka pressed her lips against Emmet’s, taking care to leave some space between their groins to help him focus on up here instead of down there. She placed her hands on his chest lightly to create another failsafe, as it were. She could feel his shoulders tense again, could feel his arms come up. His hands landed on and cupped her shoulders, but he, too, didn’t make any effort to pull her closer. 

She smiled and carefully opened her mouth to run her tongue across his upper lip. They hadn’t really done that before, and Emmet gasped as if he’d received an electric shock.

Myka broke the kiss immediately. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask-”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Emmet said in a slightly strained voice. “I just… wasn’t expecting that, even though I guess I… should have?”

Myka shook her head. “No, that’s on me. I’m sorry. I’ll do better from now on, I promise.”

“Look,” Emmet said, “I get that, but… I really am okay with that. I mean, it’s not like I know a lot about this.”

“And that’s exactly why I should check in with you before adding something new,” Myka insisted. She hesitated for a moment, then added, “Have you, maybe, come across the traffic light system? To indicate how you feel at any given moment?”

Emmet blinked. “No?”

“Red means stop, yellow means please check in on me or go more slowly, green means everything’s fine,” Myka elaborated quickly, trying very hard not to think of the night she’d explained this to Helena. “Like, if I asked you right now how you felt about my tongue on your lip, would that be green or yellow or red?”

“Oh!” A smile broke across Emmet’s face as he understood. “Good idea. Um, green. Definitely. Excitedly green.” He paused for the briefest of moments, then gave Myka a seductive look. “Can we do it again?”

That look was sheer Helena, but his delivery was Myka’s salvation; both the words and the accent in which they were said. Still, Myka swallowed before she nodded. “Sure.”

Emmet took to it with enthusiasm; it wasn’t long until they were both breathing hard. Then Emmet broke away. “I… I’m sorry, but I really feel like, uh… like I’m not gonna last much longer,” he said embarrassedly. “Just a… a head’s up. I… uh, I should probably get something to…” He gestured floppily off to the side, “uh, catch that?”

Myka caught his face in her hands. “Or,” she said when he met her eyes, “I can… catch that.”

He blinked. “I… I don’t… wh- what do you mean?”

“I could go down on you,” Myka told him with a shrug and a grin. 

His mouth dropped open and his eyes blanked out for a moment. Then he shook himself out of it, and in a voice a full register higher than usual, said, “Okay.” 

Myka chuckled. “Go on,” she said and nodded at the bed, “sit down.” While he did so, she re-did her bun – she’d shaken out her braid in the shower and just put her hair up haphazardly so as not to get it wet, but this called for no hair in her face, specifically no hair in her mouth. “You ready?” she asked, sitting down in front of him on the floor. 

Emmet swallowed again. “Yeah,” he said. Then he frowned. “Wait.”

Myka stopped in the very middle of leaning forwards. “Yeah?”

“Here.” And he grabbed a pillow and held it out to her. “For your knees?”

Myka beamed up at him as she took the pillow and shoved it under her knees. “Now that,” she said, “is a very good idea. Thank you.” 

“Least I can do.” Emmet still sounded slightly strained. 

Myka shook her head at him, but didn’t protest. “If anything I do makes you uncomfortable at any time,” she said, “let me know. Say something, or touch my shoulder or my head or whatever; just let me know. I’ll check in with you too. Okay?”

Emmet nodded.

Myka gently put her hand on one side of his cock, and her lips on the other. 

Emmet let out a shuddering breath, then immediately said, “I’m good, I’m good, oh my _god_.”

Myka chuckled. She pressed kisses along his length; she could feel the blood pulsing underneath her lips. When she reached the head, she simply kissed that too, and Emmet exhaled again, explosively, as though he’d held his breath until then. “Breathe, Emmet,” she told him. 

His reply was a strangled hum of affirmation. 

She took him in her mouth. Just the tip, down to where his foreskin created small wrinkles around his shaft; his cock was too large for anything else, and she’d never successfully deep-throated anyone, much less someone so well-endowed. Nevertheless, even just with the tip of his cock enveloped, Emmet sucked in a breath and tensed, and she saw his hands ball themselves into fists in the sheets left and right of his thighs. 

“God,” he groaned again. “Holy shit. Green,” he added quickly, “all green.”

When Myka licked along his glans, she tasted saltiness among the clean flavor of recently showered skin – he was getting close. She slowly withdrew, then took him in again, touching his head with a short flick of her tongue. She’d dropped her hands to his thigh right next to his balls, and could feel them twitch. She repeated her motion twice more, going even more slowly, and on the third repetition, could feel the tell-tale tensing.

When she bent down and flicked her tongue across his glans for the fourth time, he came, with another shuddered exhalation. Myka took it in; she’d never minded jizz, and Emmet’s tasted salty and clean. She didn’t keep going with her ministrations, though; she didn’t want to wring him out too much. He was young enough – well, technically – to not have to worry too much about stamina and recuperation, but still. 

He flopped down onto his back, and she let go of him to lie down next to him. “You alright?” she asked.

Emmet stared at the ceiling a moment longer, then laughed. “That was incredible,” he said. “Fuck, that was amazing.”

Myka raised her eyebrows in amusement. It had barely been anything – but then this was his first time with someone else. And _her_ first orgasm with someone else had been amazing too, once she’d gotten there. “Isn’t it though?” she said therefore. 

He turned to her. “I’d like to kiss you some more,” he said. “Would that be alright?”

“Absolutely.”

When he touched her lips with his tongue, she opened them readily – he was getting good at this. Then he stopped and pulled away. “Okay, that’s… different.”

Myka blinked. Then it dawned on her. “The flavor?”

“Yeah! I mean… I mean, so, okay, I…” he broke off, blushing, then glanced at her from underneath his lashes. “No judgement, right?”

“Not a single smidgeon,” she reassured him. She was halfway sure she knew what was coming, anyway.

“So I tasted my… my spunk. Like, when jacking off? I wanted… I was curious.”

“You and probably ninety-nine percent of everyone else,” Myka smiled, nodding to herself. “A bit different when it’s on someone else’s tongue, isn’t it?”

“This is so…” Emmet replied explosively, then shook his head. “I don’t wanna say weird,” he finished. “Still, it’s strange. Different, like I said.”

“Good, though, or bad? Or neutral?”

Again, he blushed. “Good,” he admitted.

“Good,” Myka said and pulled him close to kiss him some more. 

This kiss lasted longer, but after a while, Emmet pulled away again. “I… can I do the same for you?” he said. 

Myka raised her eyebrows in delight. “Go down on me, you mean?”

Emmet nodded. “I’d like to find out how you taste.”

“Well, in that case…” Myka gestured down her body. “Feel cordially invited. Just one thing,” she said, touching his arm as he sat up.

“Hm?”

“It’s not gonna be as quick as it was for you,” she told him. When he tilted his head, she elaborated, “That’s not how I’m wired. I can give you pointers; in fact, I’d _love_ to give you pointers so that you know what to do, but I… I don’t come from oral alone. I love it, don’t get me wrong, and I’d really like for you to do it, but it’ll take longer, and I’m gonna need some internal stimulation after a while. Your fingers,” she added, making sure he understood, “starting with one. And please ask beforehand, or let me tell you when, because I need to be… lubricated for that.”

Emmet nodded. He looked so very focused and concentrated that Myka had to smile at him. Only then did he smile back. “I, uh,” he began, then ducked his head slightly before going on, “I got some lube, if it should become necessary. I wanted to know how it felt. Experimentation, you know,” he added and shrugged with a sheepish tinge to his smile.

“Oh I know,” Myka said, grinning. “I did, too. It feels good to feel good, doesn’t it, and to find different ways of feeling good.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, obviously relieved. 

“Okay, so we’ll just keep that lube in mind, then,” Myka said, “should it become necessary. Probably not, from my experience, but just in case.”

“Right.” Still grinning, he cast a glance downwards. “May I?”

“Oh, by all means,” Myka laughed and scooted her butt to the edge of the bed. “There’s a pillow down there already, even.”

“Such gallantry,” he grinned back, dropping off the corner of the bed to kneel on it between her legs. Then he focused his gaze on the apex of Myka’s legs, and his expression became one of awe. Myka could see his shoulders rise as he inhaled. 

It was heady to see him so riveted by her looks and scent. 

He bent forwards, but instead of bringing his tongue to bear, he raised his finger. Just before making contact, he looked up at her again. “Is… is it okay if I touch you, too?”

“Please do,” she said. “You’re gonna want to keep your fingers there anyway, to… well, hold me open, as it were, when you go down on me.”

“Ah.” He nodded, then re-focused on what was right in front of him. 

His touch was light enough to tickle, and Myka was quick to let him know. His caress became a bit firmer after that – he ran his finger up and down the outside of her labia, as if cataloguing not just sight and scent but feel, too. Myka quivered at his touch, at the way he skirted her clit, clearly noticing it but just as clearly not touching it yet. 

Then he bent down to get a taste. He took a small lick down one of her labia, and Myka moaned slightly. His head shot up. 

“I’m good,” she told him quickly. “Don’t worry.”

“No, but-” He swallowed. “I did that,” he said hoarsely. “I made you… make that noise.”

Myka chuckled. “And hopefully many more,” she said. “Any neighbors we might be scandalizing?”

“Probably,” Emmet said with a shrug, “but seriously, I _really_ couldn’t care less. I _want_ to make you make many more of those noises, and I don’t care who hears them.” He looked back down, then back up again. “It tastes good,” he said in a husky voice. “You taste good.”

Myka smirked. “Good.”

He chuckled. “I’ll… get going, then, shall I.”

“Please do.”

He bent down and took another tentative lick. Hummed appreciatively, and then did use his fingers to spread Myka’s folds wider, taking another, much longer lick. He was a fast learner – and Myka took care to give him ample advice as to what she liked. He did ask questions, or consent for his ideas every now and then, but oh, he was _good_. For a moment, Myka wondered if it was muscle memory, then she gave herself over to the sensations his tongue was waking in her. 

He was licking her clit in quick, flat strokes, dipping down every now and then to spear his tongue into her entrance; she was already at the point where she was straining against his chin. If he went on like this, it wouldn’t take much more.

“I need a finger,” she said, “inside me.” She knew she was wet enough; she could hear it, feel it, knew from how aroused she was that he didn’t need lube. “Use your forefinger,” she told Emmet, “go slow, and tilt it towards the ceiling when you’re inside. Like the ‘come here’ motion.”

He’d stopped as she spoke, and she could feel him shift position as he brought his finger to her entrance. Then she heard him inhale determinedly, and felt his finger enter her. 

“Oh,” he breathed softly, and Myka remembered that this was his first time. “Oh, wow.” Gently, hesitantly, he flexed his finger upwards, and Myka moaned in reply. “Wow,” he repeated.

“Just keep doing that,” Myka panted, “and lick me the way you did just now. Don’t change that unless I say so, not the speed, not the technique, just keep it up, okay?”

“You got it.” 

A moment later, Emmet’s tongue was back on her clit, and his finger began sliding in and out, with an upwards crook every time he was fully inside. It didn’t hit quite right, but Myka shifted her hips, canting them at a different angle, and “Oh god,” she moaned when he slid in again. “God, yes.”

Emmet released a breath that carried a whimper, but kept going like she’d asked him to, and moments later – incredibly short moments later – Myka came, pushing up into his mouth and finger with a shudder and a long groan of release. 

“Shit, I-” Emmet bit off, then groaned as well. “No, no, no!”

“Don’t,” Myka said breezily, “worry about it.” She was pretty sure what just happened, and when she lifted her head, Emmet was indeed blushing fiercely.

He cleared his throat and held up the towel she’d dropped earlier. “Caught it,” he said sheepishly.

She laughed and patted the sheet next to her. “C’mere,” she said fondly. 

Emmet dropped the towel and obediently crawled onto the bed – nowhere near as elegant as Helena would have, of course, but that made things easier, in a way, Myka thought. He laid down next to her almost shyly, and they both turned to face each other. “That was incredible,” he said. “It felt…” he shook his head. “I… you… _feeling_ you, your… insides, feeling them move, feeling you come – hang on, that _was_ you coming, wasn’t it?”

Myka laughed again. “Yes,” she said, “yes it was.”

“Oh good.” Emmet rolled his eyes with a grin. “I’d hate to get that wrong. I mean, it’s one thing to read about, I don’t know, contractions – seemed a bit like the wrong word to me, more for births, but what do I know. But then to _feel_ it… I mean _you_ … just… wow. I couldn’t… I couldn’t help it.”

“I understand,” Myka told him. “Please don’t be self-conscious about it.”

“Well, I’m just glad I managed to grab the towel in time,” Emmet said dryly. “I’d have hated to, y’know… splatter you.” He gestured apologetically.

Myka grinned. “Appreciated,” she said. “That’s the main thing, really; anything else is details.”

“Is it?” Emmet asked, head cocked. “I always thought… I don’t know, like, coming inside you was the goal.” He cleared his throat. “As it were. I mean.”

Myka cupped his cheek with one hand to save him from floundering. “The goal is to feel good,” she said. “The goal isn’t to orgasm at the same time, or in a specific manner, or even orgasm at all. It’s nice when it happens, not gonna lie, but the main thing is to enjoy the journey, you know? To enjoy your body, my body, what we can make each other feel. Yeah, sure, sex in movies always ends with man and woman orgasming together, usually in missionary, with an artfully draped sheet across anything that would give them an even higher PG rating than they already have, but,” she shrugged, “that’s really just one way out of a myriad of ways.”

Emmet gave her an incredulous smile. “Did you just use the word ‘myriad’?”

Again, Myka laughed. “Yeah?”

He blinked. “You’re amazing,” he said. “I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to be able to touch you, make you…” Even as he said the words, his face took on a stricken expression. “She can’t, can she.”

Myka knew immediately what he meant. Her post-orgasm high dissipated, and she gave a heavy-hearted sigh. “No,” she said quietly, “she can’t.”

“She… you… you are… the two of you…” Emmet left the sentence hanging, question unspoken. 

“It’s complicated,” Myka said after a moment. She wasn’t too sure herself of what was between her and Helena, but ‘complicated’ was a safe bet.

Emmet nodded his acceptance, then asked, “Have you… have you done this before? With her, I mean? If… if that’s okay to ask?”

For a moment, Myka wasn’t sure if she wanted to answer this one. He _had_ given her an out, after all. Then she sighed again and said, “Yes and no. Yes, we’ve had sex, but I was only the receiving partner. Except for kissing, I didn’t do anything to or for her.” She hesitated for another moment, then added, “So, I don’t know anything specific about her body. I mean I don’t even know if you two are… similar, in that. Like, couldn’t tell you if your erogenous zones are the same as hers, stuff like that. So if there’s anything you want me to do, I’m gonna need you to tell me, just like I’m gonna need you to tell me if what I do works for you or not, okay?” She didn’t want to talk about Helena, or about any kind of ‘complicated’ that was between her and Helena, and most certainly not to Emmet, or while they were both naked in bed. 

She had no idea if Emmet noticed the evasion and was content to let her evade, or if he simply went along with the shift in focus. Whichever it was, “Okay,” he nodded. “I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Probably not something you’ve seen in any movie,” Myka sighed. “First times are usually a bit awkward while everyone involved figures out what the other one, or ones, like and dislike.” Then she smiled at him. “Not gonna lie, I wasn’t expecting to come so fast. You’re really, really good.” 

“Oh!” Emmet grinned proudly. “Oh wow. Um. Thank you.” He lowered his lashes – they were just as long as Helena’s; he _was_ a good-looking man – and said, “I wouldn’t mind doing that again if you like.”

“I,” Myka told him, “wouldn’t mind that either. I also wouldn’t mind having more of you inside of me than just your finger.”

He took in a breath and grinned at her. Then he looked down at himself and laughed. “Well, seems I’m at your service.”

His cock was growing hard again – not fully there yet, but frankly, Myka didn’t mind that. “How about a bit more of foreplay this time?” she asked. 

“Yes!” he replied enthusiastically. “Oh man, yes. I, um. At the risk of sounding like a letch again,” he said, propping his head on his elbow, “I would really, really like to, um,” he took another breath and finished, “kiss your, um. Breasts? Is that the best word to use?”

Myka smiled at him. “Better than many, at least where I’m concerned,” she said and made an inviting gesture towards them. “Be my guest.” 

“I’d hoped you’d say that,” Emmet replied. “Because I really, really want to know how it feels to kiss them.” He ran a finger down Myka’s side, rounding one breast, then gently cupping it. “God,” he breathed, “this feels so incredible. Like, your skin is so, so soft.” He cupped it more closely, then hefted it in his palm. “Wow, I…” he stopped and licked his lips. “I can’t believe I…” he murmured. Then he leaned in and closed his lips around Myka’s nipple. Immediately, his eyes fluttered shut and a breathy hum escaped him. 

His lips were warm, hesitant, tentative. Myka couldn’t help but smile as he started to explore – this wasn’t arousing as much as it was endearing, in a way; Emmet clearly loved what he was doing. If anything, he was being almost too gentle, but that was surely better than the alternative, Myka reasoned to herself. “You can go a bit firmer,” she told him. “Tug a little with your lips, or graze your teeth across the skin gently, suck a bit harder, those kinds of things.”

Emmet hummed his understanding, and started with a little tug of his lips on Myka’s nipple. Myka stifled a groan – that was more like what she wanted, what she needed. Emmet’s lips came apart. “Is that what you meant?” he asked, his breath whispering across Myka’s skin.

“M-hm,” Myka replied, “yeah. Yeah, like that. Even a bit more, but not much.”

“They are attached after all, aren’t they,” Emmet said dryly. 

“Precisely,” Myka nodded. Then Emmet’s mouth returned to its former task, and she closed her eyes and leaned back to enjoy the ministrations. 

Emmet’s other hand had found Myka’s other breast, and after a quick exchange of “Is this okay?” and “Yes, please,” was kneading it, stroking it, caressing it just as enthusiastically as his mouth was at work on its sibling. 

Again, Myka found that Emmet was a quick learner; moves that caused her to squirm were duly noted and repeated, moves that she spoke up against were discarded immediately. Then Emmet sucked Myka’s nipple into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue, and Myka couldn’t help herself – her hips jutted forwards, trying to find something, some friction to rub her mound against. There was Emmet’s thigh – she took it between her own and pressed herself against it. Emmet, after a brief hesitation, repeated his move, and Myka’s hips jerked again, and when Emmet chuckled, deep in his throat, Myka keened in reply. 

Emmet stopped and looked up at Myka. “I can feel you,” he said reverentially. “On my thigh. I can feel you. Your… wetness. Arousal.” He swallowed dryly. “I want to touch you,” he said hoarsely, his voice half a register lower than before. “Be inside you. Please.”

“Yes,” Myka hissed, rolling onto her back and opening her legs. Of course Emmet could feel her, she was _wet_. “Please. Please do.”

It took a moment for Emmet to find his spot, and another moment for him to figure out the logistics. Then Myka could feel the tip of his cock at her entrance. She suppressed another keen.

“Do I go slow? Fast? What do I do?”

Myka looked up at Emmet. In the glow of the bedside table, his face was flush and his eyes were wide with marvel and a bit of trepidation. “Slow, please,” she said. “Your cock is a lot thicker than your finger, after all, and I’ll need to adapt.” She knew it wasn’t too big, but anything but going slow would overwhelm her.

He nodded, and set his jaw. And then he began to slide into her, and Myka’s eyes fluttered shut. 

“Oh,” he breathed out. “Oh, god, this feels…”

“…so good,” Myka finished his sentence. He was big. Like, _big_. Thick. His cock stretched her very satisfyingly, and he really was going slow. She could feel his arms tremble a little, and wondered if he’d be up to holding himself up for this – they’d just take that as it came, though. For now, she just wanted his cock inside her all the way, wanted to feel his hipbones connect with hers, wanted the warmth to close in-

He bottomed out, and stayed still for a moment. When he spoke, there was a definite catch in his voice. “Holy shit.”

Myka couldn’t help herself. She chuckled. She reached up to pull him down for a kiss to show him that she wasn’t laughing at him, but appreciating his wonderment. “Isn’t it amazing?”

Emmet just nodded wordlessly. Then he laughed. “Man, I’m glad I already came,” he said. “If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t stand a chance right now. I… you… this feels _so_ incredible. Indescribable.”

“That’s five-syllable words you’re using,” Myka said dryly, “you’re doing fine.”

He laughed again, and this time it was he who bent down and kissed her. Then he looked at her, head tilted. “Are you… done adapting? Is that the right word? Can I move? Do you want me to move?”

“Hell yes.”

Emmet went slow in this, too, without needing a reminder – he really was a good lover. He might not have had the motion of his hips down to a T first try, but it didn’t take him long to figure it out – or maybe that was muscle memory too. When he’d found his rhythm, Myka started to move to meet him, and his eyes snapped open to meet hers. “Wow,” he said with a slow grin. 

Wordlessly, Myka grinned back at him. Then she noticed that the tremors in his arms were becoming more pronounced. “Hey,” she said, “hold on for a moment.”

Emmet stopped instantly. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, no, no,” Myka quickly reassured him. “It’s just… okay, two things. One, you’re trembling. No shame in that, this isn’t really something any workout prepares you for. Hell, I can’t hold missionary for long when I do it.”

He blinked at that, but before he could say anything, she went on. 

“Second, I gotta admit that this position doesn’t do much for me – like, it’s nice, yes, and _you do_ feel amazing – but my clit is going wanting, and there are positions where that’s way more easily helped than this one.”

He raised his eyebrows in understanding. “I see,” he said, and pulled back. “Which ones?”

“There’s doggy style,” Myka said, but shook her head and added, “but I wouldn’t see you, and I want to. The other one I like is cowgirl – have you heard of any of these?”

Emmet grinned a little self-deprecatingly and said, “I miiiight have.” 

Myka chuckled and gestured him off her. “Well then,” she said, “saddle up. Or rather, lie down.” Again, as he did so, she reached up to put up her hair; it had slipped out of its bun again. It really was pretty much unmanageable without bobby pins, but a hairband just had to be enough right now. 

Emmet’s hand on her arm stopped her. “Would you… would it bother you if you left it… if you didn’t put it up, I mean?”

Myka smiled, shrugged and finished tugging her hairband free. Her curls tumbled onto her shoulders.

Emmet sat up next to her and ran his hand over them. “Wow,” he breathed. Then he shook his head at himself. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I really do sound weird, I guess. It’s just… I’ve never – well, I don’t _remember_ ,” he corrected himself with a little roll of his eyes, “ever touching someone the way you’re allowing me to touch you, and all of this feels so…” he shrugged a bit helplessly. “So many sensations, and I always wondered how they would feel.” He met Myka’s eyes and simply said, “Thank you.”

Myka inhaled, pressed her lips together and nodded. She didn’t want to think about the whole thing too much; it was hard enough as it was.

As if he could read that in her eyes, Emmet nodded back at her. Then he leaned forwards, splayed his hand into her curls, and kissed her. It started out gently, almost melancholically, but quickly became heated, tongues tangling, hands roaming, fingertips raking across skin. Myka broke away and kissed trails down Emmet’s jaw; Emmet used the tilt of her head to kiss up her cheekbone. When he reached her ear, he hesitated, but she nudged him further, remembering how Helena kissing it had made her feel. 

Emmet hesitated for a moment longer, then started kissing her earlobe, sucking it gently between his lips the way he had her nipple.

“Lick it,” Myka encouraged him. “Trust me. Just do-” that last vowel ended in a rush of air as Emmet did just as he was told. His tongue ran across the outside of the shell of Myka’s ear, then flicked inside briefly. Myka twitched involuntarily, her knees pulling up and her thighs pressing together. 

“Whoa,” Emmet commented, sounding awe-struck. “Whoa. Did… I did that, didn’t I?”

Myka laughed, if a little weakly. “Told you,” she said. 

“I wanna do it again. Is that okay?”

“Absolutely.” 

Emmet went after her ear again, enthusiastically, creatively. A few moments left Myka panting and squirming. Then his tongue delved inside her ear and she let out a breathy moan and pushed him down on the bed. His cock jutted upwards, and she straddled him in one quick motion. 

“Is this okay?” she asked, voice rough with want. He nodded immediately, and she got hold of his cock, lined it up, and sank down on it, groaning in bliss as it filled her. 

“Shit,” Emmet hissed, canting his head back and closing his eyes for a moment. Then he looked up at her again and swallowed. “What do I do?”

“You let me set the pace,” Myka said, raising herself on her knees slightly and pushing down again to demonstrate. “You can push up, too – put your hands on my hips to get a feel for what I’m doing.” He did as instructed, and got the idea immediately. His hips came up to meet hers on the next stroke, and she hissed with pleasure. “Yes.” She set a slow pace, canting and rotating her hips at times to change how his cock pushed into her. “God, this feels good,” she said.

“M-hm,” Emmet said in strangled tones and cleared his throat. “Um, yeah. Yeah it does. Holy-”

Myka had leaned back, prompting the angle to change yet again and Emmet to fall silent as he reached out a shuddering hand towards her midriff. She grabbed it and pushed it down towards her clit – he could easily reach it now, and she needed it.

His finger matched her rhythm – god, he really was a good lover. Myka sped up and he matched her pace for pace; she started to tremble with the beginning of orgasm, and when her thighs stuttered and stopped, he bucked into her as if he knew she still needed the in-and-out of his cock against her walls, and then she was there, blessedly, startlingly there, and she bore down on him, grinding his cock into herself, shaking and convulsing around him – and he came too, with a hoarse cry and fingers dug into her hip and his other hand losing all coherence on her clit so she pushed it aside and put her own fingers to work, drawing out her orgasm until she, too, was done. She sank forward and panted, then slid one leg over his and laid down next to him.


	8. Chapter 8

His arm came up around her shoulders as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Fuck,” he breathed, long-drawn out and with feeling. “I get the hype now.”

Myka laughed into his chest. “You’re welcome.”

“God, that was incredible. And yeah, yes, thank you. Seriously. Thank you.”

They laid in silence for a while. She could feel his heart and breaths slow down, and tapped his pec. “Don’t fall asleep on me,” she said. “Let’s clean up, okay? We’re both sticky.”

“Hm?” He sounded sleepy already; Myka knew she’d gotten to him just in time. “Oh. Yeah. D’you wanna go first?”

She chuckled. “If I do, you’re gonna be dead asleep by the time I’m back. No, you go ahead.”

She hesitated for a moment after he’d gone, but then decided to go ahead and change the sheets on the bed; they were sticky too, and she didn’t want Helena to wake up in that. It also occupied her thoughts nicely while she was by herself – she didn’t want to think about what just happened, what had happened before that, what was going to happen next. 

She refused to think about it in the shower, too. 

She came back to Emmet Arnold Lake in tears, and couldn’t push away the thoughts any longer. She slipped into bed behind him and held him close. Outside the door, Dickens was meowing pitifully, but she paid the cat no mind – the man was more important.

“I’m s-sorry,” he pressed out after a while. “I’m trying. I really am. Not to, y’know, fight against this. I know I don’t… don’t have the right. But it’s not fair. It’s just not fair.”

“No,” Myka said through a constricted throat. “It’s not, and I’m sorry, Emmet. I’m so sorry.” There was nothing more she could say, so she shut up after that. 

He got up at some point to let Dickens in, who used the opportunity to jump right on to the bed, tail held high. Then Emmet climbed in again, too, wordlessly scooting into her arms, and she continued to hold him until he fell asleep. Her thoughts were way too stormy to follow him, though.

Would he have fallen asleep a happier man if she hadn’t made him get up and shower? Didn’t he deserve that much?

And when it came to things he deserved-

Myka stopped her thoughts right there. It wasn’t fair. He did deserve more – he deserved to continue to exist, for a start, but she couldn’t see a way to do that. Not when she didn’t know how the Janus Coin worked; not when she had no idea how to swap his and Helena’s consciousnesses so that he could at least live on as a hologram – not when she had no clue if he even wanted that. 

And yet here she was, the only one in a position to take the final step.

She disentangled herself from his embrace, ceding pride of place to Dickens, and got up. Trying to make no noise, she got dressed, went to the living room, sat down on the couch and glared at the orb.

“If you have questions, Ms. Bering, I will do my best to answer them.”

Myka didn’t even look up to acknowledge Mrs. Frederic. She gritted her teeth and slowly shook her head. “I question if this is all worth it, you know,” she said, still staring at the orb.

“I see why,” the Caretaker said gravely. She sat down in the chair Myka had pulled out for Helena earlier. “And I’m afraid this is an answer I cannot provide.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Myka sighed, “only I can. Here’s a question for you, then.” She looked up at Mrs. Frederic now, hiding not one iota of her anger. “Is there any way, _any_ _way_ , to save Emmet? His consciousness, his personhood, anything?”

“I’m afraid not.” Mrs. Frederic’s face was as solemn as her voice, but there was no end of sorrow in her eyes. 

At least there was that, Myka thought. At least there was that. “This is not okay,” she said tonelessly. She blinked, and two tears dropped from her eyes to her cheeks. She wiped them away impatiently. 

“I agree.”

In a way, Mrs. Frederic being her most implacable self helped. Myka sniffed, inhaled deeply, and sat forward. “How do I do this, then?”

-_-_-

Wearing purple gloves from her purse, Myka placed the Janus Coin in Emmet’s sleep-slack hand. Dickens hissed. Emmet’s fingers twitched minutely, but that was all the reaction he gave. A flash of white-gold illumination flickered over the Coin, then it, too, lay inert again. Dickens kept hissing, but more softly now, ears flicked back and tail puffed out and lashing. Then, he sniffed the prone figure, sneezed, sneezed again, leapt off the bed and vanished through the open door.

Gritting her teeth, Myka took the Coin and dropped it into the slot of the black orb, then placed the orb on the bedside table and took off one glove to check the vitals of – Not Emmet. Herbert, maybe? H.G.? She’d have to ask him when he woke up. Or them. 

She might not know how to refer to this person right now, but she’d be damned if she left them alone.

She took off her boots and pants again, climbed into bed and settled in behind them, big spoon to their small spoon, giving what comfort she could.

-_-_-

In the grey light of dawn, Myka felt them stir in her arms. She’d always been a light sleeper, and this night especially had barely dozed. Maybe two hours had passed, she judged, but that meant that H.G. had gotten at least as many hours of sleep.

The person in her arms snuggled closer to her, and Myka’s heart went wide. She’d seen trust in Helena’s eyes; she’d seen trust in Emmet’s eyes, too, but _this_ – this was a person still almost asleep, at their most vulnerable and least cognizant, and they were seeking her embrace, settling into the comfort it gave them, consciously or not. 

And they were justified in trusting Myka this way, because Myka would kill and maim and destroy whoever and whatever tried to harm them. 

With her bare hands, if necessary.

She stared at that thought for a while, then, internally, laughed at herself. 

She loved H.G. Wells. Whatever name, whatever pronoun, whatever body shape or gender expression – none of that mattered. All of that could be figured out, handled, dealt with, now that she knew. Because now she knew she loved them, fully and completely and with all her heart.

Well, at least she’d figured that one out. 

The person in her arms tensed, and Myka loosened her embrace immediately. “It’s me,” she said, “it’s just me.”

The person in her arms froze for a second, then released a shuddering breath. Then they turned around to face Myka and opened their eyes.

Still the same face she’d cradled yesterday, but the expression of those eyes had changed. They were brimming with emotion; pain, elation, sorrow, trepidation were ones Myka thought she recognized, but there were more she couldn’t put a name to. 

“Hey,” she said quietly.

They tried to smile but failed. “Hey,” they said, in a morning-cracked voice. And then slowly, almost hesitantly, they shut their eyes. Myka could see them compose themselves and knew that whatever moment of unguarded openness had passed between them was over now. She pulled back her arms and scooted backwards, noticing a last, fleeting twitch of longing pass over the other person’s face.

They sat up, pulling the sheets around them, and Myka did the same, only sans sheet because she was still in her t-shirt and they weren’t.

“Good… morning?” she ventured. 

“Debatable,” they replied with a bitter twist to their mouth. 

“I’m sorry.”

They smiled, and bitterness tinged that, too. “I know. I remember. You said so yesterday.”

Myka blinked. “So you… remember what…”

“I remember being Emmet Arnold Lake, yes. It is quite disconcerting.” 

Myka pressed her lips together to keep her emotions in check. The voice was Emmet’s – but it wasn’t; it had never been. It came from the same vocal chords, that was all. The attempt at an American accent was gone, and the diction was what Myka knew as Helena, but – she hadn’t expected this. Somehow, she’d expected to face Helena Wells as she knew her, in her female form, but come to think of it, why had she?

“This must be difficult for you,” they said, and Myka almost laughed out loud, biting back what would have been the bitterest bout of laughter in a long time. 

“Hey,” she said, shaking her head, “this is much more about you than it is about me. Are you… are you alright?”

“I believe so,” they replied, dropping their gaze to the sheets where it followed the motion of one of their fingers, running up and down along a seam. “I feel this,” they added. “I feel hungry; ravenous even. There is no doubt that I’m fully back in my body-” they broke off with a deep breath. 

Myka got the feeling they weren’t done talking yet, so she kept silent.

“I haven’t been in this form of my body since I was unbronzed,” they said quietly, eyes still fixed on their fingers. “At first, I didn’t dare – I didn’t want MacPherson to know. Then, after I got the tattoo, I wasn’t sure if I still could change – and I didn’t have the fortitude to simply try, because I could not have stood it had I failed.”

Myka’s mouth was dry as she tried to comprehend what that must have meant for them. 

A fleeting smile ran across their face. “Would it be easier for you if I changed back, Myka?”

Emmet hadn’t pronounced her name that way. Myka pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Whatever works best for you,” she said.

They looked around the room, and their face darkened. “I need to get out of here,” they said. Their gaze returned to Myka and turned pleading. “Could you… would you mind?”

Myka swallowed, but shook her head. “No,” she said, “no, I understand. I’ll, uh… should I take care of Dickens?”

Relief flooded their features. “Would you?”

Myka nodded, got up from the bed, and grabbed her clothes. “Sure. I’ll be… I’ll be in the living room, so you can…” she gestured towards the closet and the bathroom, “get dressed and stuff.”

She busied herself packing up things Dickens would need, but she didn’t have to wait long until H.G. stood in the doorway that led to the bedroom, as awkwardly poised as Myka had ever seen them, bag over their shoulder and ready to leave. 

The ponytail was gone. Myka found herself weirdly focusing on that, as if Emmet equaled ponytail and H.G. – didn’t. Their hair, just as lush and full in this form as it was in Helena’s, hang open on their shoulders, still damp from showering. 

“I’ll-” they cleared their throat. “I’ll be off then. Take a cab to the school, hand in my notice, hope I’ll handle it convincingly.” They swallowed, then took a step forward. “Myka, I-”

Myka raised her hands in rejection, and they fell silent. “No, I… I can’t. I can’t handle any speeches right now. I need… I need to process this, and I know you do too. Just…” she shook her head. She needed to change the topic, and fast. “Okay,” she went on, “so first, what do you want me to call you?”

They blinked, then smiled a shaky smile. “I typically go by George when I’m in this form,” they said. “H.G. works too, for either.”

Myka nodded, and asked, “And which pronouns should I use? Just… just when I think about you,” she added quickly. “I wouldn’t tell anyone about this; this is yours to share or not, but-” she broke off with a helpless shrug.

“Either is good with me,” George said. “Male ones when I’m in this form, female ones for the other. ‘They’ is fine too – works for both, just like H.G.,” he added with a fleeting smile. “I appreciate you asking, Myka.”

Myka waved the thanks away; she didn’t want to deal with them either, not right now. “Of course,” she said. “Just…” she swallowed harshly to keep her emotions at bay. “Just… find me, okay? When you’re… when you can. Find me. Take all the time you need; god knows you deserve it, but don’t-” she clamped her mouth shut and looked away, blinking hard.

George walked forwards – not towards her, thankfully, but towards the door. Inside the little hallway, he turned. “I promise,” he said thickly. “Myka, I-”

Without looking at him, Myka held up her hand and shook her head. 

She could hear him clear his throat. “I promise,” he repeated, and then the door clicked shut behind him.


End file.
